Remember Me
by carinims01
Summary: "I want to tell you something I've never told you before... Thank you." It's been fifteen hundred years since those words were spoken, and his friend's deaths still weigh heavily on Merlin's mind. But after all those years of waiting, trying, suffering, they've finally returned. Not just Arthur, but all of them. Even Morgana. And something is horribly wrong. Future fic. No slash.
1. New Beginnings

Disclaimer: IDOM

Surprise! I know you guys probably weren't expecting this, and I hope that you don't mind a new story. A *cough* everyone comes back story. *cough* :D I started this back in January, nearly a month after the series 5 finale so, as you can imagine, I was still full of feels... and this happened. I regret nothing. xD Okay, so, good news, this whole thing was beta'd by CaptainOzone (there needs to be a real life beta-ing award because this girl is _amazing._) So, hopefully there won't be too many mistakes. :)

Also, at the moment, I have most of this written... I think. So there'll be (more) regular updates. I'm hoping to post every... Wednesday, if I can.

I really, really hope you guys like this, because this is the first time I've ever tried a return fic. :D

Enough babbling... Go forth, and read!

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_"There is no death in remembrance. Remember me. Remember me, and a part of me will always be with you."_

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

"Stop!" he screamed over the shrill wind. "Stop this, Morgana!"

"Why, Emrys?" she replied, equally loud. "Can't take it?" Shouting a spell, green flames sprouted from her hand, and she drew back her arm.

Merlin instinctively raised his hand, and, without even the need for a spell, a blue shield spread out from his palm. He ducked his head as the flames hissed and spat against the glowing ward.

He glanced behind him to see Arthur looking at him with a look of complete astonishment and confusion and fear, and the knights had a very similar look on their faces. Guinevere's expression was the only one he could draw strength from. Her doe brown eyes, filled with pride and faith - _for him_ - met his for barely a second before the flames evaporated.

"Emrys."

Merlin let the shield down and fixed his gaze on Morgana, whose calm, almost teasing, tone made frustration and annoyance prick at him . The small smile on her thin lips grew, and his brow furrowed in confusion before his eyes were drawn down to her slim hand and the glinting object clutched there. The warlock's eyes widened in horror, and the panic running through him resonated in his timbre as he shouted, "Morgana, no -"

That was when the shot rang out.

That was when Merlin screamed.

* * *

**Chapter 1: New Beginnings**

* * *

Merlin still thought of them. No matter how hard he sometimes wanted to forget. Over a thousand years had passed since Arthur's death – since the rest of his friends, too, had all been killed off. Fifteen hundred years. And he still remembered each of their deaths like they were yesterday.

He kicked a stone as a car passed on his right, lights flashing in the gathering twilight, and adjusted his brown canvas shoulder bag strap. He pulled it up further on his shoulder, feeling the weight of the books it held as his warm breath smoked in the cold air.

The warlock snuggled his chin further into his black coat and blue scarf again and was reminded of the WWII style it had with the cashmere strips of fabric that covered the stitch line from his collar to his shoulder and the straps that he bore, in the same fashion, on his forearm. They had no real practical use, Merlin knew, but he was fond of the jacket all the same. He felt the tip of the tall collar brush against his pink-tipped ear and he readjusted his hold on the strap of his seemingly fidgety bag.

A breeze snaked its way through the air from the lake to his left and cut through his loose-fitting, light colored denim jeans, leaving him wondering why he'd decided to walk home from his job in the city anyway. But he knew.

The shrubbery to his left suddenly stopped and gave the warlock a full view of the Lake of Avalon. He walked because he liked to be alone when he came to the lake. And pausing by the lake... It was the least he could do for all his friends. In honor of their memory, and as a memorial to the time he'd waited for them. How he continued to wait for them.

He stopped, as he always did and bowed his head as his heels twisted to face the the water. The sun was still setting, and the remaining bluish-purple light made the slow flowing water look black. The warlock felt a wave of nostalgia as his topaz blue eyes roved the lake and rested on the weather beaten monument on the large island in the center of the Lake.

Merlin walked forward until the dark water was reaching out for the tips of his black trainers, and another breeze washed over him, ruffling his short, obsidian colored hair and making his pale face flush a light pink with the nipping chill. He blinked, feeling the usual tears pushing against the backs of his eyes. "I'm still here, Arthur. I'm still waiting."

A sudden gust of wind blew his tears away and dried his eyes again, making him remember everything he'd been through, all the people he'd lost – and then making his mind question why he was crying over something seemingly so small; the death of a few friends – while the other side of his mind screamed at him that they weren't just his friends. They were his family.

"Colin!" someone shouted. "Colin Jones?"

Merlin's head snapped up in surprise, answering to the alias he'd been going under for the past eight years. He turned around and narrowed his eyes, seeing a long black car resting along the side of the road a few dozen feet away. A single man stood outside the car, dressed in a business-like suit with his thinning brown hair brushed straight back from his aged face.

The warlock, with one last wistful look at the cold lake as a pit in his heart widened, he turned, and walked back up the small incline to the man. Once there, he adjusted his shoulder strap again before sticking out his hand.

"Commissioner," he said.

The man, who had to be somewhere within his sixties now, clasped Merlin's hand in his and shook. "Please, Merlin, I've known you too long for that title."

Merlin even felt a small smile pulling at his lips as a light came on in his eyes, making the Commissioner smile further. Jonathan Daniels, head Commissioner at the New Scotland Yard, knew his secret.

One of the few people who did.

They'd fought together in the Korean War, sort of anyway. Daniels and his team had been patients in the MASH hospital Merlin had worked at near the front lines in Korea. Only a few days after their arrival, there'd been threats of an airstrike and, with orders to bug out, the camp packed up to move. Daniels, his team, and Merlin had somehow been separated from the rest of the entourage, and they'd been forced to hide in a cave due to the men's injuries. Daniels had almost died of infection, and Merlin, desperate for all the deaths to stop, used his magic to heal him, ultimately revealing it to Daniels and his platoon: the only people who knew about Merlin and his secret.

After the incident, they'd kept in touch for a while, gone on a few more missions with their self-proclaimed -soon official- team as they were recruited by MI6, until ties broke and some members of the platoon died later in the war, others heading off to continue their duties elsewhere. Daniels was the only one who'd stayed in London after all these years, keeping an eye on Merlin while running a branch of Scotland Yard.

The Commissioner let his hand fall, and he slipped it back into his pocket as another breeze whipped past them. "You haven't changed a bit," he noted with a wry grin.

Merlin's eyes flashed with hidden pain – the reminder of his 'gift,' or curse, depending on how you looked at it. "You have," he replied shortly.

John laughed and put a hand to his bulging belly. "Time has been good to me – a little too good, don't you think?"

The warlock let out a small chuckle as genuine amusement and fondness filtered its way into his dark eyes. John's smile widened as his success. It was no easy task to get Merlin to smile genuinely, not back then, and certainly not now, he should think. Another torrent of wind cut through their clothing and made Merlin shiver. John motioned towards the car, raised his eyebrows, and at the warlock's small nod, he opened the door, climbed in, and heard Merlin shut the door behind him.

Here, in the more darkened space, John looked at his friend, and, surprisingly, could see his emotions better than in the light. Merlin had always been good at hiding his feelings – his _true_ feelings- but when Daniels searched his face, he wasn't surprised at what he saw: pain, loneliness, light shadows under his eyes and around his soaring cheekbones that showed he was deprived of sleep. He was the man who never aged even as the world turned, and tilted, and grew old around him, suffering as the years passed even though he retained the looks of a man no older than twenty-three.

With a stone of concern settling itself in his stomach, he faced forward and called to the driver, "37649 Albion Street."

Merlin smirked at the street which he himself had had the pleasure of naming hundreds of years ago, and sat back in his black leather seat as the car lurched forward. He slipped off the shoulder strap of his bag and set it on the floor as the chilled leather of the seat creaked. He felt another bout of nostalgia as he wondered what Arthur would think of automobiles; vehicles that moved without the strength of horses. He wondered what Gwen would think of them.

"So, how've you been, Merlin?"

Merlin's blue eyes settled on John as the car drove over a hole, making the car lurch sideways momentarily. "Fine; the usual."

John frowned, eyes glinting with anxiety. "The usual isn't ever good. Especially your usual."

The warlock grinned minutely. "I'm fine, John, really."

The Commissioner pursed his lips but didn't push it further. "How's your job going?"

Merlin's mind traced its way back into London, where he worked as a doctor at one of the major hospitals a few blocks from the River Thames – easily named the Thames Memorial. "You know… it's been a little lighter for a bit – nothing major." Then, turning towards the his friend, "You would know, you keep tabs on me, don't you?"

The man blinked and nodded shortly. "Not all the time, just so I know you're okay."

Merlin rubbed his face. "I'm never okay, John, you should know that. But then, I'm always okay, aren't I?"

John's mood shifted and sadness filled his heart. He'd known Merlin for a long time, and as the years passed, he'd only seen his friend slowly crumble under the weight of the world as he watched Merlin steadily lose hope. He was waiting for something to happen, John knew, but Merlin would never tell him what – he never told anyone. But whatever it was, John knew that it was long past due, and that Merlin had just about lost hope that whatever it was would still happen.

The car stopped, and John looked to his right at the small cottage type house that Merlin currently resided in. He took in the familiar stonework and the old, chipped white paint on the fence that separated his yard from the street. A large weeping willow grew in one of the corners of the yard as more another tree grew on the other side, casting deep shadows across the ankle length green grass, even darker now that it was night.

A car door opened – Merlin's side – and he grabbed his canvas bag with his right hand before leaning back in the car, black hair shining almost bluish in the dark. "Come on in, John. I can't imagine you stopped by just to see how I was doing. We can talk inside."

John smirked and opened his own side, groaning as his old limbs creaked. He stood and pulled his woolen trench coat down before turning around and looking over the top of the limo to see Merlin staring at him with sad eyes.

"Merlin?"

Merlin flinched and was shaken out of his melancholy daydream at his name. It felt so good to be called by the name his mother gave him, but it hurt to be called that too because he knew that one day, John wouldn't be there to call him that. Most of their team was already gone, and because of his observations of John – the groaning limbs, the slight limp in his walk, the hint of sickness in his pained grey eyes – he was hit with the reality that John too, wouldn't live forever.

The warlock walked around the car and opened the creaky gate, "Come on. I'll get some tea going. Do you still drink Irish Breakfast Tea?"

The Commissioner smiled and followed his young looking friend. "Always."

Merlin walked along the stone pathway and jumped up the three steps towards his thick oak door. He put his right hand over the doorknob, flicked his wrist, and unlocked it as his eyes flashed honey-gold in the dark. He never carried keys; never needed them.

Behind him, John chuckled at the use of magic and trailed behind the warlock as he entered his dark, cold house, flashed his eyes again, and saw dozens of candles suddenly flicker alive and cast sharp shadows around the room while other parts were dappled with bright orange light.

Merlin set his bag down in one of the chairs at the table, shed his cashmere black jacket and indigo colored scarf, and walked over to the fireplace. He reached in and set new logs in before lighting that too, with magic. He crossed his kitchen, towards the stove, and set the kettle on while motioning towards a chair for John to sit. He did, and Merlin sat across from him while they waited for the kettle to begin boiling.

"So, what can I help you with?" Merlin asked politely.

John looked at his hands and unwrapped his own plaid scarf and jacket, sitting it beside him on the table. His face was grim, eyes dark and sad, making Merlin's brow furrow with curiosity and concern.

He refused to meet Merlin's gaze. "I'm afraid I don't bring very cheery news, my friend."

Merlin felt a fleeting smile pull at his lips. "When is anything cheery these days, John?"

The Commissioner chuckled lightly and leaned further on the table, frowning seriously again. "Merlin, listen… I… I thought you of all people deserved to know that I've…"

Merlin felt a stone of uncertainty in his gut and he leaned forward, eyes open and prepared for the worst. "What it is?"

"I was just… yesterday," he fumbled for words before finally just saying it outright, "I was diagnosed with cancer."

And just like that, Merlin felt a blow to the chest and buried his head in his hands as his long fingers squeezed his hair. John reached out to catch his hand, but hesitated, wondering if it would only make it worse as the man started to shake ever so slightly.

"John, you can't – not you too."

"Hey now, they said I still have years, Merlin," he tried. The warlock looked up, pain in his bright topaz eyes as John's grey-green ones danced with pity and concern. He paused for a moment, waiting for Merlin to calm a little, and then softly adding: "I'll still be haunting you for years to come."

The warlock swiped at his eyes, chuckling darkly, and stood abruptly as the kettle started to whistle. John watched him fumble through his cupboards with shaky hands, and retrieve two coffee mugs before setting tea bags in them and filing them with steaming water. Then he walked back to the table and set John's cup before him.

"Thanks," he offered.

Merlin smiled thinly and took a sip from his own. "And thank you… for telling me."

The Commissioner gave him a fleeting grin. "I thought you deserved as much, after everything. And I wanted you to hear it from me rather than someone at the hospital."

Merlin looked up at him. "You were tested Thames Memorial?"

"No," he answered, "but you know how things go around."

The warlock nodded and took another sip of his black tea. He let his eyes rove about his small cottage as his fingers danced on his oak-wood table. The room they were in now combined the kitchen and the dining room, and then, to the left if you were walking in through the front door, was the living room, furnished with a single couch and a desk, along with an easel and a few of his paintings stacked along the wall.

He let a small, wistful smile grace his lips as he remembered how he got into artwork in the first place. There hadn't been time – or interest – in it in Camelot, but after he'd finally left the kingdom and traveled abroad, he was quickly pulled into the different cultures and as he began to do artwork of his own, he found it hard to stop. The smile faded as Merlin realized that that was probably the one thing about him that hadn't changed in the past thousand or so years – other than waiting for his friends' return, of course.

Then his eyes roved the spiraling staircase that was in the corner of his living room that led up to his loft – his bedroom. He knew without looking that he would find more of his artwork – this time his sketchbook and a few charcoal pictures – and his twin size bed and beside that, a dresser, filled with simple yet comfortable clothing.

He brought his attention back to where they were, and noticed John's fidgeting fingers, and the way his eyes had glazed over as he stared into his tea in thought.

"John?" he asked softly.

The elderly man was snapped from his daydream and, eyes clear once more, he turned to the warlock and his forehead crinkled as he raised his brow in question, only reminding Merlin just how old his friend was, and sending another jab to his heart.

"There's something else, isn't there?"

John dropped his gaze and reaffirmed his grip on his cup. Merlin saw goosebumps weasel their way up his hands, and he imagined, his arms. The man ran a hand over his thinning brown-ish silver hair and sighed. "Yes, there is."

Merlin's eyes hardened as he felt his heart jump. "And?"

"Listen, Merlin, I don't know if you'd be interested, but I have a job for you," he said carefully, as if one word would instantly make the warlock reject the idea.

Merlin gripped his own cup with his slender fingers, the mug reflected in his dark blue eyes. "I don't work for MI6 anymore, John, you know that - nor MI5, or whatever you call your agencies now."

"No," the Commissioner shook his head. "It's nothing like that – nothing like what we used to do. It's just a position - and you'd be under my jurisdiction."

"At Scotland Yard?"

"Yes, -"

"- John, I have a job -"

"Will you just hear me out?"

Merlin sighed and glanced into his cup as silence overtook the room. John began speaking again.

"It's just a temp job. If you like it, you can keep it, but there's an inspector who needs a new partner, well sort of - now wait," he said as Merlin opened his mouth to speak again, "it's nothing like you think. You'd be working as a doctor, nothing more."

Merlin's ebony eyebrows came together. "He's a patient?"

John shook his head. "No, but he needs a partner, and I thought that, considering he's an inspector, I thought a doctor – who's _had_ both MI5 and 6 training – would be useful."

"So I'm going to be there as…?"

"A consultant," John clarified. "To help him and his team on their cases."

Merlin's eyes swam with a curiosity John hadn't seen in a while. "Team?"

The Commissioner smirked. "Yes, Merlin, everyone works in teams these days."

"So," Merlin said, eyebrow quirked, "I'll pretty much be babysitting a bunch of inspectors?"

"Well, only the one is an inspector, the others are sergeants under his command."

The warlock cupped the side of his face with his hand, a small – but significant for him – amount of amusement filtering through his eyes. "What's he like, this inspector?"

John smirked. "He's arrogant; I can say that much about him."

Merlin grinned slightly, thinking of another – a certain other – arrogant prince.

"But he's a good man. He takes risks to get the job done sometimes, but he'd never place any member of his team in danger. He has a strong sense of loyalty and honor. The man reminds me a lot of _you_, actually," he smiled.

The warlock smiled with nostalgia as the man's description also reminded him of a certain prince turned king. John leaned forward a little more.

"And, Merlin, I would count it as a personal favor to me if you took the job." He gestured to himself. "I'm not going to be around forever, and I need to know that you have other friends you can turn to."

Merlin's eyes flooded with understanding and also with sadness. "John -"

"Please, Merlin, just this."

The warlock swallowed and sat back in his chair, twirling his dark colored tea in its ceramic mug as his mind mulled it over. He thought it was very kind of John – to want to know that he'd be okay after he passes – but would it be worth the pain? Even if he did make friends with these new people, he knew they too, would pass one day, leaving him behind again – as per usual.

All he'd done the past decade was avoid friendships like those – except for John – so that he wouldn't feel that pain, that numbness, again. Because every loss was another name on the list – and there were already far too many names. Loneliness washed over him again as he thought about his lost friends throughout the ages. There were so many people who had broken through his barriers and an equal number of people dead.

But what about John? He wanted this for Merlin, and the warlock knew that he'd probably thought the same thing he was thinking about now. John was a good man, and Merlin knew he didn't make decisions lightly – he couldn't, being the Commissioner at Scotland Yard. He mulled things over first and did what he thought was best. And if he was here now…

The warlock reached for the loneliness in his heart and knew, as much as John did, that he would never survive without friends. He would crumble away into nothing but a shell. He nearly had done once, until a young orphan child – one who Merlin later took under his wing as his own – had drawn him out again, showed him the goodness that still remained in the world. He needed a friend. He would need a friend while he waited for his true friends to return.

Merlin pursed his lips. "Okay. I'll take it if it means so much to you."

The man let out a whoop of relieved laughter. "Thank you, Merlin. It does." A companionable silence elapsed before they chatted about nothing of consequence: the weather, Merlin's newest paintings, and shortly after, John stood. "Well then, I had better get going."

A hidden sadness swept through Merlin's blue eyes. "So soon?"

The man slipped his scarf around his head. "I'm afraid so. I have to get all the paperwork in order for your arrival." He had difficulty getting his jacket on, and Merlin was there in a second, helping his arm through the armlet as the older man grinned his thankfulness. "Just go to the hospital tomorrow and collect your last check – you'll be on my payroll from now on. Then, you can stop by my office tomorrow and meet the team. Be there by noon, I'll make sure everyone's there."

He turned away and clasped his friends forearm before drawing him into an embrace. Merlin clung to him tightly as if it was the last time he'd see him again. He knew it wouldn't be, but all the same, it hurt to see him go.

Merlin pulled back and escorted the man towards the door before opening it for him. "Thank you for stopping by," he said genuinely.

John turned to him as the now dark night washed over them both as they stood on Merlin's short stone porch. "It was my pleasure, old friend. Is there anything I can do for you?"

The warlock smirked, thinking how he asked that every time he paid him a visit – even if it was just to drop off his check from the hospital personally. "Are you ever going to get used to asking that?" he teased.

The Commissioner smiled. "Never. If you need anything, _anything at all_, call me. And if it's two in the morning… call my secretary and set up an appointment."

Merlin let out a laugh and pulled his friend into a hug once more as the buzzing of cicadas and the song of crickets reached their ears. "It's always good to see you, John."

He grinned and finally, they said their goodbyes, and Merlin watched as the car's scarlet tail lights faded along the dark winding country road. The warlock looked at the sky and smiled longingly at the purplish-blue smears of galaxies and glistening, burning white stars that were held captive within the deeply blue blanket of night. And it was only when Merlin looked out towards the never-ending sky that he ever felt any amount of peace. He didn't know why, but he did, and it helped.

And so, taking a deep breath of the chilly and utterly refreshing night air, he let it out slowly before he opened his eyes again – which were slightly lit with new determination and purpose that he hadn't had in years - and walked back into his warm cottage of a home, and dressed for bed, preparing to start his new adventure.

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Okay... so... how did you like it? And, just to reassure you real fast, at the moment, there are thirteen more chapters already written, and they're still coming. So, yeah... (hopefully; unless the world comes crashing down around me) regular updates. I hope you liked, and I hope you stick around! The next chapter will have Arthur and well... everyone else in it. We'll get some background and see what they're doing in this modern world. :D

Bye for now, guys! Please review!


	2. Partners

Disclaimer: IDOM

Hey, guys! I'm updating on time! *cheers* Firstly, I really, really, really want to thank all of you who're following and reviewing and favoriting. Seriously, guys, getting all those emails... It was amazing. Twenty-one reviews, fifteen favorites, and forty-eight followers. It really made my day getting all those. *massive hugs to all*

Secondly, and because I forgot to do this in the last AN, can we just take a moment to appreciate the book cover for this fic? That's it... go ahead... click on it; it'll get bigger. See that bundle of awesomeness? Well, ladies and gents, that was made by the one and only ErinNovelist here on FF. (Also whenthestormisthrough on Tumblr) So go check her stuff out too. ;) She's a brilliant photo-editor.

Thirdly, I just recently made a Tumblr myself. :D It's, of course, carinims01. So feel free to follow. ;)

Fourthly, and while I'm recommending things, I've been kinda having a non-stop binge marathon of this show that is absolutely astounding. It's got time travel, holograms, angst, whump, friendship, bromance, and every single episode brings in something new, and no, it's not Doctor Who. It's Quantum Leap! Really, guys, this show... If you like Doctor Who, you're bound to like this. Go watch! :D

Fifthly, I should warn you, since it's a modern fic, I will be incorporating my own likes/dislikes into the characters. It really can't be helped, actually, since there isn't any canon for it yet, and I have to add some quirks and things to everyone. ^_^

Okay, that's it, and I honestly think that has been my longest AN so far, so, honestly, thanks for reading it, because I'm sure it probably bored you to tears. xD

*over exaggerated bow* Enjoy!

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**Chapter 2: Partners**

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"What?" Arthur nearly yelled, irritation filtering through his voice. He pulled his hand back from where it had crashed down on Chief Inspector's desk and instead ran it agitatedly through his golden hair while he let his other hand rest on his hip. Arthur saw his superior's blue-grey eyes flash with impatience and a more carefully hidden annoyance.

"You're getting a new partner," he repeated.

Arthur shifted his feet and let his arms fall to his sides in exasperation. "But I don't need -"

"Nonetheless -"

"But, _Father_, I don't need a new partner."

Uther looked up from the manila folder he'd been looking through and set it on the desk before folding his hands in front of him, anger underlying his voice. "It doesn't matter, Arthur. These orders come from the Commissioner himself. I have no say in it."

"But you're _Chief Inspector."_

"That doesn't matter right now," he said, and Arthur could hear the frustration filling his voice in regards to the situation, "but you _need_ a partner. You can't just go by yourself on these missions."

"I've got my team –"

"An _odd_ number, Arthur. You need your _own _partner."

Arthur put his hands on his hips again, resisting the urge to pace the length of his father's large office. "I hate partners; they're all bootlickers."

"And they all say you're impossible to work with; that's why they all asked for transfers."

"But -"

Uther finally held up his hands. "What's done is done, Arthur."

The inspector let out a frustrated puff of air before compressing his lips into a thin line. "Fine."

The Chief glanced at his son and nodded in farewell. Arthur turned and walked towards the exit, first seeing his team out the window of his father's room before he grasped the handle, turned it, walked out, and let the door shut loudly behind him like a petulant child.

"So," Leon started as he walked up, "how'd it go?"

Arthur put his hands on his hips again and rolled his clear blue eyes. "I'm getting another partner," he whined.

Gwaine nearly spat out his coffee as he laughed, and Elyan handed Arthur his own fresh to-go cup from Starbucks. "Really? Who's it this time?"

The Inspector leaned against his desk. "He didn't say, just that he would be here at noon, and that we're all to meet him in the Commissioner's office. Apparently, the two are old friends."

"So, wait," Percy piped up, confusion in his eyes, "how old is this guy?"

"Young," he answered. "Younger than any of us."

Elyan's brow furrowed. "So he'll be inexperienced?"

Arthur took a sip of his coffee, pulling it back when he scalded his tongue. "That's what I thought, but he's also said to have a lot of experience in the field. The Chief said that he'd read my 'partner's' folder. He's supposedly worked with the Commissioner in the past on some cases, medical things among the more 'secret stuff,' and he's not actually going to _be_ an inspector, or anything, just a consultant."

Gwaine snorted. "A consultant? What'd we need a consultant for?"

The Inspector shook his head. "Beats me."

Leon flicked his elbow, enough to pop his sleeve up from his wrist and reveal his silver watch face. "Well, it's ten now, so we've got time to kill. Eh, bad choice of words."

Gwaine snorted into his coffee again, and Elyan grinned. "So we've got two hours and no cases so... what do we do to waste time?"

Gwaine immediately perked up. "I say that we go… 'stake out' that new market on Third Street."

"Why?" Percival asked animatedly.

_"Because_ it's market day, and they have fresh apples in."

"And _Katherine_," Elyan quipped comically, receiving an immediate punch in the arm from Gwaine.

Arthur's eyebrows scrunched with amusement, the argument with his father forgotten. He threw up his hands up and glanced at the floor as if in submission. "Fine, you go do whatever you want, but be back here at noon."

Gwaine grinned broadly. "Perce, you coming?" A nod. "Elyan?"

"Yeah, I'll go. Better than sitting around here."

"Leon?"

"Nah, I'll hold down the fort."

"Arthur?"

"Not this time. I'm not being held responsible for whatever trouble you get into."

The sergeant flicked his keys off his desk. "The market it is then! Let's get going!"

Arthur stared at the three retreating backs of his friends, mind spacing and eyes glazing as if trying to catch some distant thought or memory. He let his eyes rove the large room, and they settled on his father, who was leaning over his desk in his separate room and signing papers before switching his attention to the computer on his right. Leon's voice as he asked a question suddenly sounded far off, and while his eyes continued to lose focus and colors smeared and dulled, his father's disembodied voice flashed through his mind like a long forgotten memory.

_"You shall be rewarded a position in the royal household. You shall be Prince Arthur's manservant."_

_"Arthur."_

Leon's voice finally broke through Arthur's trace, and he looked up towards his friend's stubbly face. "What?"

"This new partner of yours, do you think you'll keep this one?" he asked, brow scrunched in slight concern for his younger teammate.

"I don't know," Arthur replied truthfully, glancing at him and then at his coffee whilst whatever remained of his daydream was snatched from his mind, leaving him with only a vague feeling of annoyance, but also a strange, sudden longing and unexplained sadness, some of it even ebbing into his voice. "Depends on whether or not he's a bootlicker."

Leon smirked at him, writing off his tone as frustration towards the situation, and stood up to his full height. "Well, I'm going to the workout room, wanna come?"

The Inspector glanced at him, lips drawn in a smile while his cerulean eyes danced. "Nope, I've got something I need to do."

Seeing the hidden meaning behind his cheery tone, Leon grinned. "Okay then, I'll see you around."

Arthur gave him a farewell smile before walking off.

* * *

Guinevere shoved her cell phone into her purse and slung it across her black-leather rolling chair. She rolled over to the computer and typed in her information to log into Scotland Yard's computer system. Then she leaned back in her chair and tucked a lock of long, curly brown hair behind her ear and jumped when Arthur suddenly appeared from behind the corner, two coffee cups in hand.

"Good morning, Guinevere," Arthur said, smiling wistfully.

Gwen smiled, and her chocolate coloured eyes danced with pleasure. Arthur handed her a cup of her favorite coffee, and she closed her eyes as she breathed it in, feeling goosebumps crawl up her skin from the warmth. "Good morning," she repeated. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Mint chocolate verrazano with whipped cream," he smirked. "Just how you like it."

She smiled at him gratefully and set her coffee on the desk beside where Arthur was already sitting. Her smile faltered, though, as she noticed a hidden tenseness in his face and his body and the way his eyes had changed from cheery and free to hesitant and guarded. "Arthur?"

His blue eyes snapped up and met her brown ones. "Hm?"

The worry and concern was clear in her eyes, and Arthur wondered what had happened to put it there. "What's wrong?"

Oh, that. "It's nothing," he placated. "I'm just getting another partner."

"Another one?" she asked as her eyebrows shot up with surprise. "Won't this be your third this year?"

Arthur grinned sarcastically. "And it's still early."

The secretary pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. "When's your father going to learn?"

Suddenly, Arthur's eyes were dancing teasingly, and he leaned down as a genuine smile pulled at his lips. He grabbed her hand and leaned into her face. "As soon as he learns about us."

Gwen giggled and pulled her hand out of his hold, smiling. "So, never?"

"Pretty much," Arthur said, smile gone. "I mean, I know he means well; he wants to know I'm protected and everything but…"

"…but he doesn't trust anyone to take on that responsibility?" Gwen suggested.

Arthur nodded.

"He cares for you, Arthur, very much, and he doesn't want to see you get hurt. I can understand what he's going through… sort of anyway. I mean, it must have been what my father felt about Elyan and I after our mother passed. And I know that the Chief isn't very good at expressing what he's feeling -"

"-except for his disapproval-"

"-_but_ he does feel it, Arthur. He's proud of you," Gwen finished.

Arthur sighed and looked at the coffee in his hands. "Thanks, Gwen."

She nodded, smiling. "So, got a name for this new partner?"

The Inspector huffed. "Leon asked me the same question, and no, no name for mystery man. All I know is that we meet him today at noon."

"Well, don't forget to bring him around. I'd like to meet him too."

"I will, but I don't know how long he's going to stay."

Gwen clucked her tongue, adjusting her purple, knee-length jacket. "Already doubting him?"

"Not doubt; experience."

"Maybe this one'll be different."

Arthur looked towards the ceiling, blue eyes slightly humorous, slightly ponderous. "Maybe he will."

The secretary took a drink of her mint flavored coffee. "Where're the guys?"

"Leon went to get some time in the gym, and Gwaine, Elyan, and Perce all went to the market."

"The market?"

Arthur nodded. "Yep, apparently they've got fresh _apples_ today -"

"And _Katherine_," Gwen added laughingly.

Arthur rolled his eyes and looked at her questioningly. "Who _is_ Katherine? Elyan mentioned her too."

Guinevere scoffed lightly. "No one special; just Gwaine's latest muse."

"Ah," Arthur sighed, pointing an eyebrow. "Shoulda guessed."

The secretary smiled at him and glanced at her computer, which had logged her in a while ago. "Well, I have work to do, so…"

"Fine," he replied with mock-offence. "I can tell when I'm not wanted."

Gwen laughed again as he walked off with a smile on his face. He looked at the clock and saw that he still had an hour and a half to waste. He released a sigh of boredom and decided to meet up with Leon in the gym upstairs, briefly wondering what the others were up to.

* * *

"Seriously, they're the best," Gwaine promoted, holding up a half yellow, half red apple.

Percy picked up his own cherry red apple from the fruit stand as other shoppers shuffled around them, searching for whatever was fresh. "Red are the best, Gwaine."

The sergeant only shook his head. "Nope, Gala are the best; red apples just dry out your mouth."

Elyan screwed up his face. "Gonna have to agree with Gwaine on that one, Percival."

The taller man just smirked good-naturedly and took a bite out of the apple whilst handing the stand owner a few coins for the fruit.

Suddenly, Elyan nudged Gwaine just as he bought his own multi-colored apple. "Hey, look, there's Katherine."

Gwaine perked up and his long brown hair flashed in the sunlight as he spotted the tall brunette a few stands down. He grinned mischievously through a mouthful of apple and swallowed thickly. "Excuse me, boys." He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his light grey cashmere coat.

As he walked off, Elyan and Percy shared a skeptic and amused look before glancing at Gwaine just as he sauntered up to the smiling young woman, spoke with her for a few moments, and then walked back towards them, a sullen look on his face.

"So what happened, ladies-man?" Elyan teased.

Gwaine leaned against a flower stand next to them and took another bite out of his apple. "She has a boyfriend," he sighed.

Percy rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh, feeling no amount of remorse for his mock-grieving friend. "Gwaine, you're impossible."

He grinned. "I know."

"What's got you so perky allva' sudden?" Elyan asked.

"Well," he grinned. "There's always Margret…"

"Margret Hemmingsway? From our last case? Gwaine, are you kidding me?"

"Nope."

Elyan sighed. "I swear, Gwaine, you're just asking for trouble."

"Fine!" he responded, throwing his hands up. "I'll just be a bachelor all my life."

"Might be better that way," Percy muttered under his breath.

Either way, both caught the jab, and Gwaine hit Percival in the arm, laughing with Elyan and Perce all the same.

"So now what do you guys wanna do?" Gwaine asked.

"I don't know… head back to the station?" Elyan suggested. "It's nearly eleven."

Percy nodded. "Might as well pick up some lunch."

"Tavern!"

"No," Percy and Elyan said simultaneously. Then just Elyan, "You know, Gwaine, it's almost hard to believe you actually made sergeant."

"I'm surprised myself," he grinned.

Percy laughed and walked off, the others trailing him towards the car they'd brought before piling in, Elyan driving.

"So," Gwaine began as Elyan started the car, "what's for lunch, and who's paying?"

Elyan rolled his eyes. "Me, I suppose. You can pay me back later. As for what's for lunch, Gwen'll probably want Subway."

"Sounds good to me," Percy threw in.

Gwaine grumbled something in the backseat, but neither Elyan or Percy caught it. Then, louder, "Fine."

By the time they got there, ordered, and left, they had just enough time to get back to Scotland Yard and eat their lunch. They all ate as a group -Arthur, Leon, Elyan, Percival, Gwen, and Gwaine - like they usually do, around their grouping of desks. They didn't talk about anything particular until Arthur's new partner was brought up.

Gwen slapped Arthur's arm with mock scolding in her eyes. "Arthur, be nice."

Arthur swallowed and took a drink. "What?"

"You should give him the benefit of the doubt," she answered. Elyan hummed in agreement, and Arthur shot him a thanks-agree-with-her-so-you-don't-get-in-trouble- too look through narrowed blue eyes. "At least he's agreed to be your partner."

"Probably hasn't read his file," Gwaine quipped with amusement.

Arthur scowled.

Gwaine's grin broadened. "It's gotta say somewhere in there that you don't play well with others."

"Well I haven't dumped my drink on you yet," Arthur commented. _"'Yet'_ being the key word."

Leon and Percy sniggered, and Elyan took a step away from Gwaine.

"Thanks, mate," he told Elyan playfully, "leave me defenceless."

"I wouldn't say that Gwaine," Gwen giggled. "I mean, you've got your hair, right?"

Arthur snorted and nearly spit out his drink as everyone laughed. Then Leon bumped his arm. He turned towards him to see his right hands eyes grinning with amusement and followed his eyes to the clock on the all.

"Just about noon guys," Arthur informed them.

"Hm," Gwen said, swallowing her food, "and I'd better get back to work."

She wrapped up the remainder of her sandwich, grabbed her drink, and smiled in farewell as she walked back to her desk a few stations down.

"So, why do we all have to go when he's _your_ partner?" Gwaine whined.

"Because, Gwaine, he's going to be a part of the team, so the Commissioner wanted us all to meet him at the same time," Arthur explained, wrapping up his own sandwich.

"Eh, I didn't like any of your last partners, who's to say I'm going to like this one?" Gwaine grumbled.

"You didn't like Jefferson because he was allergic to apples, _Gwaine_," Elyan provided.

Percy grinned. "And then you didn't like Michael because he thought you were immature, which I'm inclined to agree with."

Gwaine sneered and Leon shuffled them towards the lift. "He's the immature one; going by the book all the time."

"That's what you're supposed to do," Leon said.

Gwaine laughed. "And how often do we actually _do_ that?"

No one answered, and slowly, the lift carried them up to the next floor. The bell finally dinged, and the door slid open. Leon was the first out, then Arthur, Elyan, Percy, and finally, Gwaine. The former walked right down the hallway and stopped at the Commissioners secretary's desk.

"Hello," he said politely. "We're here to see the Commissioner."

She smiled up at him and looked at the rest of the group before saying, "Why?"

Arthur stepped forward and leaned against the side of the desk. "Come on, Morgana, let us in."

She quirked her eyebrow and rolled her emerald eyes, amusement filtering through them. "Fine." She leaned towards the phone beside her computer and pressed the intercom button. "John?"

A resounding buzz and a small crackle of feedback. "Yes?"

"Arthur and his team are here to see you," she said.

"Perfect, send them in." Then the crackling faded and Morgana nodded at them to go in.

They started to walk off until her voice called them back. "So, what trouble'd you guys get into this time?"

"None," Leon answered with amusement. "Arthur's getting a new partner."

"And he's in there?"

"Yep."

"Oh my, dear brother," Morgana purred, eyes showing tresses of remembrance and amusement. "Make sure your nicer to this one, eh?"

Arthur just rolled his cerulean eyes and pushed the doors open just in time to see the Commissioner stand and smile at the team, and just in time for a tall man with a mop of ebony hair, dressed in denim jeans, and a hip-length black jacket to turn around, his stormy blue eyes widening with surprise and shock.

* * *

*hides behind shield* I know... cliffie. Guys, really, if you aren't an author, you really don't know how much fun it is to write these. We authors literally take pleasure in our reader's suffering. We're all a bit mad like that. ;)

I hope you liked it, though, and please leave a review. :) Suggestions and lots of feedback is always appreciated.


	3. Something Lost and Something Found

Disclaimer: IDOM

Okay, so it's pretty much this point in the story where I run out of things to say in my AN, and I just babble incoherently about nothing and expect you all to be so enthralled that you like this more than the fic. Well guess what? I just babbled incoherently about nothing, but I'm sure you'll like this chapter better than this useless AN, so I apologize for wasting your time. xD

*exaggerated drum-roll*

* * *

**Chapter 3: Something Lost and Something Found**

* * *

Merlin awoke the sound of birdsong outside the window above his head. Slowly, he opened his glazed blue eyes, and his pupils dilated as golden sunlight poured into them. He smiled minutely to himself at the green leaves that tapped against the window next to his bed. The warlock felt a flutter in his stomach as the small breeze tickled his face, and he remembered that he'd cracked the window because of the promise for good weather last night. Yesterday's rainstorm had done a good job of clearing the air, and the day after rain is always the best.

But then Merlin was startled to find that he himself was feeling better than usual. He... felt something. It didn't particularly have to do with the weather, or the sweet birdsong outside, or... Merlin didn't necessarily know, but he found himself grinning at the blue sky and green foliage outside, genuine pleasure and almost... cheer coursing through his system, the likes of which he hadn't felt in a very long time.

The warlock cupped the back of his head with one hand and laid the other across his stomach, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of fresh air rolling off the lake, tinged with the lavender he grew -for Guinevere of course- in his yard, before exhaling slowly. Peace and contentment coursed through him, and he smiled to himself as he opened his kaleidoscopic blue eyes again and pushed back the bedclothes. He swung his legs out, needing to untangle the sweatpants he was wearing from the sheets, and slipped his feet into his blue slippers before they could be touched by the no doubt cold wooden floors.

He stood up and stretched, relishing how it felt, before relaxing again and adjusting his maroon coloured tee, pulling it back down from where it had slipped above his waistline. He glanced at the digital clock behind him, surprised to find that it was already nine in the morning. Usually he was awake by sunrise, if not earlier. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd slept in.

His smile widened further, and he practically skipped to the circular staircase that lead downstairs. His foot slipped on the final step, and he stumbled before catching himself again. His hand rested on the back of the chair he'd stumbled into while he grinned humorously at his own clumsiness. And when he heard Arthur's voice calling him an 'idiot,' Merlin felt a rush of brotherly affection and fondness sweep through him.

Then he stopped cold.

He stood up to his full height and put a hand on his heart, thinking about Arthur, and Gwen, and all his friends and family from before. He felt his heartbeat, a gentle thud-thud-thud within his chest, and he felt the more subtle beat of his special magic -the magic that had been at the forefront of his whole being since Arthur had passed; the force keeping him alive all these years- but he didn't feel any pain. And he always felt pain when he thought of his past. He always felt a longing and a sadness and a _tiny_ sliver of hope, which is what kept him going, but he didn't feel any of it.

No, he just felt happy. For the first time in decades, he felt genuinely happy, maybe even carefree. Maybe it was a good sign? He was sure something had changed, but he didn't know what. He didn't know what it meant, or why he felt that way, he just did, and he'd learned long ago to enjoy something while you have it.

So, still smiling, he fumbled around his kitchen for something to eat, leaving his fireplace unlit and instead, opening the windows as a blithe breeze gently ruffled his curtains. He prepared some eggs with some grape sized tomatoes on the side and ate quickly, for absolutely no reason. Then Merlin found himself with two full hours before he was supposed to meet the Commissioner at Scotland Yard. He decided that, like John had said, he might as well pick up his check at the hospital.

Merlin ran back upstairs and changed into well-fitting denim jeans, a charcoal grey, long-sleeve shirt that he pulled up to the elbow before running back downstairs and grabbing his black cashmere jacket just in case it got cold later. And then, for the first time in months, he found himself calling for a cab to drive him into London before picking up his sketchbook.

When the yellow vehicle parked outside his house and honked fifteen minutes later, he rushed to the bathroom and ran a comb through his ebony shaded hair before -being unhappy with the plain style- ruffled it with his hand. He smiled as it stuck up in the front a bit, like it used to back in Camelot, and felt, for the first time that day, a small bout of nostalgia. His smile faltered in the mirror, and he found himself staring back at his own reflection... but it wasn't at the same time.

It was the same face, with the same features: soaring cheekbones, full lips, messy eyebrows, but the eyes were different. They were older. Not in the sense that there were wrinkles around his eyes like a normal person would get as they age, but in the sense that behind his guarded irises, he held more years, more history, than anyone on earth.

But for some reason, even that couldn't ruin the strange peace Merlin felt today. So when the cab driver honked again impatiently, Merlin found himself running back to the living room, eyes roving over the unfinished paintings and sketches he often occupied himself with, and grabbing his jacket from the back of an armchair before rushing out the door, he locked the structure with a quick flick of his wrist. He piled into the back of the ebony cab, still fumbling into his cashmere jacket, and called, "Thames Memorial, please."

The cabbie nodded, saying nothing, and drove down the bumpy road. The trip was uneventful and took nearly twenty minutes. When they finally arrived at the hospital, Merlin climbed out, paid his dues, and let him drive off. The sound of chatting and laughter filled Merlin's ears as he walked around people who had gathered within the hospitals large courtyard, and he found himself smirking at the familiarity of it all.

The warlock pushed the glass door open and entered the hospital, the smell of scented sanitizer and cleaning supplies filling his nostrils immediately, and he smiled at the receptionist as he walked towards her.

"Just here to pick up my check, Grace," he said simply.

The blonde smirked at him and reached under the desk, pulling out a white envelope as she commented, "Heard it's your last."

He nodded. "Something came up."

"Well, I'll see you around, I guess."

Merlin nodded his head again and walked away, folding the thin paper in half before shoving it into his jacket pocket as he walked out of the hospital and hailed another cab. Once one pulled over, he saw that his watch already said eleven-thirty, and Merlin asked the driver to take him to Scotland Yard.

The ride there was as pleasant as the ride before: peaceful and quiet except for the rush of other cars and the subtle sound of the engine. Merlin briefly wondered when he'd gotten so used to driving in cars, especially considering where he came from, and it made his lips flicker with amusement.

The black car pulled up to the curb minutes later, and Merlin handed him some bills before climbing out, huddling into his cashmere jacket and shoving his hands in his pocket when a cold breeze flew by. If there was one thing he'd learned in all his years, it was that weather was fickle and childish. He thought so anyway, and it made his smile broaden a little more as his stomach fluttered.

Merlin looked around the bustle of people on the wide sidewalk, and the large courtyard before he examined the building itself. It hadn't changed a bit since he'd been here last: same tall, imposing structure, creative architecture, and artwork from a local university planted outside. He thought that, if anything had changed, it was the feeling he got: usually he felt an ominous mystery to the place, like walking into an abandoned building, but now... He felt his stomach flicker with life again and fidgeted at the almost... _excited_ feeling his magic was pouring into his veins.

He closed his sky coloured eyes, and, as if his magic was something completely separate from him, Merlin asked, "_What is it?" _And then, as if in answer, his magic seemed to jump and burst with glee like a small child keeping a secret from their parents, and Merlin felt the urge to both let out a laugh and scrunch his brow with confusion.

So instead, he just smiled and walked into Scotland Yard. Even though he knew the way to John's office, he stopped by reception and told him he was here to meet him. The receptionist gave him directions and pointed him to the lifts. Merlin smiled politely and walked away as she finished and grabbed the bulky grey door to the lift just as it was closing. He sidled his way in and then let the door close fully before trying to fix his ruffled hair and pressing the button for the third floor.

The lift moved downwards, so Merlin guessed that at least one of the lift's four other occupants were going to the basement -where they kept the records evidence, among other less than happy things- and as the lift continued to descend, their gossip about a group of people reached his keen ears.

"No, you're thinking of the other one," one woman said, ruffling through her purse. "The one with the long hair."

The tall man beside her scrunched his brow, rocking on his feet. "But I thought she liked -"

Another woman, the youngest of the four, Merlin thought, leaned forward to look at her friend's face. "- the Inspector."

The shorter man beside her, who had his jacket hanging over one arm, slouched against the wall before jumping forward when the bell dinged and the doors slide open. All four of them, still gossiping, got off, and when the thick doors slid shut once more, Merlin let out a relieved breath that he was alone.

The lift jerked, and he was pulled up by the steel cords that held the box in place, and the warlock closed his eyes and felt the lift jerk once more as he reached his floor. The doors slid open, and quiet chatting filled his ears as he entered the white walled hallway. He turned to his right, following the signs until he reached what appeared to be the secretary's desk. He looked around but didn't see anyone, only a sign that said, 'Out to lunch - Be back 12:00.'

Merlin glanced at his watch -it was eleven-fifty now- and fixed his jacket once more before he noticed that the door to John's office was ajar. He scrunched his brow and walked towards it, then grabbed the handle and opened it slowly, peering inside.

"John?"

A slurping sound. "Merlin?" The warlock grinned and walked completely in as the smile on his friends face grew too. "Good to see you."

Merlin walked over and shook his outstretched hand from where he stood on the other side of his old wooden desk. "And you. Lunch break?"

John gestured to the chair Merlin stood in front of, and they both sat at the same time. The Chief Inspector ran a hand through his thin hair, blue eyes twinkling. "Yep. Have you eaten?"

Merlin let out a small chuckle, only just feeling his stomach rumble at the sight of his friend's ham sandwich in front of him. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I must have forgotten."

The elder man laughed. "Here," he said, reaching below his desk and grabbing something. "Eat this. I thought you might be hungry."

Merlin smiled gratefully at his friend and unwrapped the sandwich. "Thanks, John." The Commissioner smiled and took another bite out of his sandwich as Merlin dug into his. "So what's the name of this guy I'm partnering up with?"

"Bradley," he offered. "Well, that's his proper name, but no one ever calls him that."

Merlin's ebony brow scrunched with amusement. "Then what does everyone -"

A small buzz sounded, then static. "John?"

Merlin's mind froze at the familiarity of the voice, and his body tensed as he held back a flinch.

The Commissioner smirked at Merlin, unaware of what he was feeling. "That'll be them, I think." Then, leaning down towards his phone, he pressed a glowing red button. "Yes?"

"Arthur and his team are here to see you."

The warlock felt his breath catch in his throat and felt his magic thrumming uncontrollably beneath his suddenly paled skin. It couldn't be a coincidence -Morgana and _Arthur, _and his _team._ Merlin's beryl colored eyes remained locked on the phone as his hand clenched in his jacket pocket.

"Perfect," John replied, his smile growing. "Send them in." There was a second more of feedback static before the line went dead.

Merlin's breath returned to him, coming rapidly through his nose, and he could feel his heartbeat in his ears as his stomach churned and burned with fear and anticipation. Could this really be him? _Them? _After all this time? After all these long years of waiting, was his patience finally going to pay off? Would he have his friend's back? But then traces of doubt swam through his mind as he thought that, if they were truly back, wouldn't they have contacted him?

The door _clicked_, opening, and John stood. Merlin was finally broken out of his hazy trance and, body still rigid and reluctant to move, jumped up with him, turning around to face what he'd been waiting for over a thousand years.

His vision was clearer, it seemed, than it had ever been before because Merlin had never wanted anything so badly, so when Arthur, _his Arthur_ -his Gwaine, Leon, Percival, and Elyan- came in the room, he felt joyous tears pushing at the backs of his ever-widening, stunned eyes. He felt the blood drain from his face, and felt lightheaded with glee and joy as shock took over his systems and his mind froze.

They were back! Arthur's fair hair and sharp features, Leon's kind, trustworthy face, Percival's strong jawline, Elyan's sparkling eyes, and Gwaine's friendly smile all ran through Merlin's mind, and it was all he could do to stop himself from running to his friend's and hugging all of them. They were here... they were back... _They were really here._

But then Merlin's heart fell the tiniest bit as he saw that Arthur's sky blue eyes were filled with confusion, longing, and a sense of abounding joy, sparkled with sudden tears, showed no real sense of recognition ... And neither did the others. There was a light, yes, as if the familiarity of another person was uncanny, and it seemed as though they too, were poised to jump, but there wasn't a hint at the brothership they'd shared, the adventures they'd had, and Merlin's suddenly guarded eyes were filled with sadness as Arthur stepped forward, hand outstretched.

"Do I know you?" he asked, grinning politely even though Merlin could see the conflict behind his eyes.

Merlin felt an arrow pierced his heart at the familiarity of his voice - the voice he'd been waiting much too long to hear; the voice that had been ingrained in his mind from when Arthur thanked him for what he had done, the voice that comforted him when he'd have nightmares from lives long past, the voice that hadn't changed in fifteen hundred years. The warlock stepped forward and clasped his slender hand around Arthur's, and at the touch, Merlin's magic jumped again, but it only made Merlin feel more sad that this man had no idea...

The warlock wanted so much to answer, _"Yes!_ We're friends, Arthur, _brothers_! We fought dragons together, fought immortal armies! How can you not remember? _You _died_ in my arms..." _

But no, he couldn't say that, not without everyone thinking he was mad. So instead, he, as usual, hid his inner pain and spoke in the most forcibly controlled voice he could manage. "No, I don't think so."

Arthur pulled his hand back again, a small smile flickering on his lips as he adjusted the button-up shirt he was wearing. "Hm, well you look horribly familiar from somewhere."

Merlin forced a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Just got one of those faces, I guess."

Suddenly Gwaine, with an amused look at Arthur, stepped forward and shook Merlin's hand too, introducing himself. "Ignore the Princess," he grinned. "He's not very good with introductions. Name's Eoin Macken, but call me Gwaine."

"Alright," Merlin's voice cracked as he eyed the man who used to be his best friend, one of the only people who ever tried to understand him, and he cleared his throat as his forced smile flickered. "Gwaine it is." And the barest flicker of pain flickered in him at the name said aloud. Usually, the name, any of their names, brought pain, but seeing them here... everything was already changing.

The sergeant quickly started pointing out the others as they too stepped forward to shake his hand. "Well, you've already met the Princess -Bradley James, but everyone just calls him Arthur. And that's Tom, but he goes by Percival. Don't worry; he's not nearly as intimidating as he looks. I once caught him -"

"Oi!"

"And this is Rupert, but he goes by Leon, and, last but not least, this is Adet, which in itself is a nickname, but everyone still just calls him Elyan."

The warlock nodded at him as he let go of Elyan's hand, and put his own hand back in his jacket pocket. "My name's Mer- Colin -Colin Jones."

Merlin caught the tiniest flicker of... _something_ pass through Gwaine and Arthur's eyes at his stumble, and an equal amount of hope flared in the warlock's chest.

"Mer- Colin it is then," Gwaine smiled, pulling on his brown tee shirt. That's when Merlin felt a genuine smile pulling at his insides, twisting them until he outwardly grinned with fond remembrance and amusement.

John finally came out from behind his desk, hands in his pockets while he grinned. "Good, everyone knows everyone."

"Hey, Commissioner," Leon started, crossing his arms as his mouth was pulled into an amused smile. "How is it that you know Colin anyway?"

"That's _John_ to you, Leon," the Commissioner quipped laughingly, and then, with a look of fondness directed at the warlock, he added, "We go way back; other missions and things."

"Arthur told us that bit," Gwaine commented. "Anything else?"

"John also worked with my father in the past," he lied, seeing John floundering for words. Just that sent a stream of guilt to his heart.

"I knew it!" Gwaine jumped.

Elyan's brow scrunched in amusement. "Knew what?"

"That picture...," Gwaine tried, frantically searching John's office. "There was a picture, and he," pointing at Merlin, "looked like a guy in it. I bet that's why we recognized him."

Merlin had other ideas about why they recognized him but kept it to himself. He looked curiously at John just as Gwaine jumped again and reached for a framed black and white picture on a shelf. He pulled it down and brought it over towards the gathered group, and Merlin craned his neck to look at it sideways.

"See?" he tried.

Merlin chuckled. It was an old picture of him, the Commissioner, and a few other members of their old team grinning at the camera from where they stood outside a tavern. Merlin remembered it had been taken sometime in the eighties, and he also remembered that that was the first time he had loosened up in a long while.

"Whoa," John laughed, "I'd forgotten I had this."

"Me too," Merlin grinned.

They passed the picture around, and when Arthur got to it, Merlin saw something else settle in his ocean eyes, a sadness that was raw and deep, but then, when Arthur blinked, it was gone, and he set the picture back on the shelf.

"So what now?" Perce asked.

John smirked. "Now, you go check out some things."

Gwaine grinned. "You got us a case?"

The Commissioner nodded. "Of sorts, yes," he teased. Then he went on to explain, everyone leaning forward with anticipation. Merlin smirked at their enthusiasm, thinking that some things never changed. "There was a break-in at the Thames Museum last night. I sent some uniforms down to take statements, but I thought you guys could go see likely cause, motive, and check back again to see if anything was stolen. Last time they said they'd have to do inventory first."

"Great!" Gwaine exclaimed.

"_But_," John added, "I'm only sending three of you."

Gwaine's face fell. "What?"

"I'm sending the _other_ three to another museum on the other side of London which has the same problem."

Arthur crossed his arms, face changing from patient silence to curiosity. "Two museums in one night?"

Leon frowned. "You think there's a connection?"

The Commissioner nodded. "Probably. But in any case, I want you six out at the museums. Colin, you'll work with Arthur and -"

"Me!"

John grinned and cocked an eyebrow. "Fine, Gwaine, you go with them. That leaves Leon, Percival, and Elyan to take the other one." He filled them in on what else he knew so far before sending them off and shuffling them all out of his office.

It was then that Merlin's magic jumped once more and he felt a small amount of anticipation and fear for his friends, as well as anger, and he remembered the voice he'd heard over the speaker in John's office: Morgana. But when they exited the office, the warlock saw that the secretaries desk was, once again, vacant, and the relief he'd felt allowed him to breathe again. At least he wouldn't have to face her yet, memories or no.

When they got to the lift, they all rode down to the main floor and said their goodbyes before going their separate ways.

"I'm driving!" Gwaine exclaimed.

Arthur rolled his eyes and gave Merlin a grin that was almost like what it used to be while pulling the keys out of his pants pocket. "No, Gwaine, I'm driving. We don't to kill Colin on his first day, now do we?"

Gwaine just snorted and climbed in the back, and Merlin smiled thankfully as he climbed into the passenger side seat of the black SUV. The engine thrummed, Arthur changed gears, and as the car started forward, Merlin couldn't help but be reminded of Camelot and smiled out the car window as he remembered their other adventures, and, so naturally, the warlock wondered what new ones they'd have.

* * *

...So I really hope that you liked that way better than the AN, because if you didn't, I'm a hopeless writer. :P Haha, but I really do hope that you liked it. I think this was among one of the harder chapters to write because I wanted to get the reunion right, and yet still have a little err in it, you know? I don't even know what I'm trying to say, so don't feel bad. :P Geez, you know, if someone could just send me a pot of coffee, that would be wonderful...

Okay, school starts in a week and a half, and it's my _senior year!_ Woohoo! I don't know why I'm announcing it, but what the heck? ;)

Also, remember, carinims01 on Tumblr... there are Merlin and DW edits. :D

That's enough babbling. ;) Please review!


	4. Courage, Strength, and Magic

Disclaimer: IDOM

Surprise update! A friend on tHoC convinced me to update a bit early... *sheepish grin* Don't worry, there'll still be an update on Wednesday, too. :D

And, to answer a few common questions: Yes, the nicknames and how they got them will be explained shortly, and yes, Merlin will be known as 'Merlin' later on. :) If you have any other questions, please feel free to ask. I'll be happy to answer them. :)

As always, I hope you enjoy it. :)

* * *

**Chapter 4: Courage, Strength, and Magic**

* * *

Arthur rolled his cerulean eyes and pulled the car to the curb just as the Thames Museum came into view. Colin laughed at Gwaine's joke, and Arthur couldn't help the smile that pulled at his own lips. He twisted the key, shutting off the ignition, and peered out the window to see the old-style building rising up to his left. The immense pillars in the front and the old writing on the triangle section that was above the pillars gave it an almost eighteenth century feel.

Gwaine let out another laugh. "So then I -"

"-Gwaine," Arthur interjected, "we're not trying to traumatize Colin either."

In the past twenty minutes, the time it took to drive from Scotland Yard to the museum, Gwaine had told _several_ stories. A few of them about past cases, a few of his renditions about past bar fights, one of which he was in the middle of now. Arthur had heard this particular one a thousand times... at least.

"I don't mind," Colin supplied, grinning like he hadn't smiled in a good many years and eyes sparkling with a mirth that Arthur had never seen before in anyone.

There was something about him. Something that was immediately likeable, and Arthur _knew_, somehow, that he was different; something about his character that Arthur couldn't help but be drawn to. He could already tell by the way he acted that he wasn't a bootlicker because one, he was laughing genuinely at Gwaine's jokes, no matter how bad they were. And two, the others had been stricter and had cared more about propriety and rank than Colin seemed to. Colin, as far as Arthur could tell from the drive to the museum, was laid back and lighthearted, and was, in general, very easy to be around.

"Well, we're here anyway," he said, nodding at the building.

Colin and Gwaine, both like eager children, immediately leaned sideways and peered out the window, narrowing their eyes against the bright sun to look at the beige colored stone that made up the building.

"I haven't been here in forever," Colin said.

Gwaine glanced at him, smirking with amusement. "Me and my sister used to love coming here when we were kids."

"Same," Arthur added.

Colin looked at him with a curious expression and opened his mouth as if to ask something, but, out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw him close his mouth again and look away. Gwaine, too, seemed to notice it but kept quiet as they all climbed out of the car.

"Still don't know what that means," Gwaine mumbled.

Colin grinned. "Hm?"

The sergeant cupped his hand over his brow to block the sun and looked at the outcropped triangle piece of the building above the pillars. "What that says," he supplied, pointing at the large letters that were etched into the heavy tan stone.

Colin stopped on the sidewalk, and both Arthur and Gwaine stopped with him, giving him a curious questioning look when he continued to stare at the building, brow furrowed and mouth set in a tight line as he sucked in his full lips in thought. Then his brow relaxed, and he caught up to Arthur and Gwaine. "Rough translation: 'Every story has a beginning.'"

Now Gwaine's brow furrowed as they continued to walk. "You can read Romanian?"

Colin smiled at him. "Actually, it's Greek, but yes."

"Since when can you read Greek?" Arthur asked, feeling very distinct confusion even if he didn't know why.

"Since I went to Greece in -" Colin's smile suddenly faltered as a thought flashed through his mind, and he looked away.

"In what?"

The man looked at him again, and Arthur could tell the smile was more forced than genuine, and his eyes were tinged with a bit of sadness. "I don't remember… It was a while ago."

Gwaine clapped his shoulder, grinning. "Well, either way, that's cool -and fitting for a museum if you think about it." At these words, Colin's smile grew more genuine, and his blue eyes sparkled.

Arthur still felt the frown on his face from the change in Colin's demeanor but brushed his concern and curiosity off as he took in the scene around him. The steps in front of the museum were spotted with people: some standing around, some sitting, and some filtering in and out the large museum doors. Birds squawked overhead, and a cool breeze blew through the area, ruffling papers and hair.

"Well," Gwaine said, "it couldn't be that bad if they're still letting people in."

Colin hummed in agreement as he messed with his jet-black hair.

Arthur rolled his eyes with fond exasperation and pushed the door open, the other two following behind him. Heat from the large reception area flowed through him, and he took off his long, dark grey trench coat and threw it over his arm, seeing Colin do the same with his black jacket, and Gwaine do the same with his brown leather sports jacket. He righted his maroon button-up shirt and pulled it down before walking over to the circular reception desk in the center of the room.

"We're here to see the curator," he said. Colin placed his toned forearms beside him, leaning on the taller part of the desk and looking curiously around the room with a broad, almost familiar smile. Gwaine leaned on the counter besides him, looking at Colin with wonderment and hesitation. Then, Arthur's blue eyes met his chocolate brown ones, and in that small moment, a message was passed that neither one would be able to recognize. It was a look of familiarity, of remembrance, of something bigger… and it was snatched away just as quickly as it was created when the receptionist spoke.

"She'll be down momentarily."

Arthur blinked and turned his attention away from his friends as the woman's words registered in his mind. He nodded and thanked her before moving off towards one of the display cases in the large, old-fangled room.

"Whoa!" Gwaine exclaimed. "Look at this!"

The Inspector walked over to see what had gotten Gwaine so excited and saw him and Colin peering into, of all things, a fish tank. Arthur rolled his eyes and watched as a several colored fish swam around their colorful home. He glanced at Gwaine, who seemed completely enticed by the creatures, and then at Colin, who glanced between the fish and Gwaine with fond amusement. It was slightly odd to see that tender look in Colin's eyes, especially since it was directed at a man he'd hardly known for an hour. But then there was something that made it so natural too –something that made it not odd at all.

_"One more minute and you both you've been dead. _Neither_ of you won. You're plan was a half-baked disaster, and if it was not for that fire we would all be pushing up daisies." _

"Inspector James, I presume?"

A woman's voice broke him out of his daydream, and again, the interruption left him with a sense of frustration from the lost information. He blinked and turned on his heel, standing up to his full height and adjusting his shirt once more before shaking her outstretched hand. She was older, maybe in her fifties, with shortly cut white hair and a smart suit consisting of a light coloured skirt and matching jacket. "That's me. And these are my colleagues, Sergeant Macken and Colin Jones."

"Pleasure to meet you," she said politely, shaking each of their hands in turn. "I'm Mrs. Young. I understand you're here about our recent break-in."

Arthur nodded. "Just checking back, Mrs. Young. Could you possibly take us to where the break-in occurred?"

"Of course," she replied, turning on her heel. "This way please."

Arthur smirked at the woman's direct demeanor, and shared a quirked eyebrow with Gwaine and Colin before following her down several hallways and around several corners. They passed all sorts of things, from wire figurines to oil paintings. Gwaine, of course, stared at all of them and had to scramble to catch up several times while Colin, on the other hand, gave the art a passing glance, walking loyally behind Arthur the entire time. They passed through one larger archway before they stopped.

"The medieval section!" Gwaine exclaimed gleefully. "This was always my favorite." He nudged Colin. "You should've seen me in high school. I was obsessed with anything medieval. So was Arthur."

Arthur glanced behind him and gave the man a small smirk, narrowing his eyes with amusement. He turned back to see the curator talking to someone who had a question about a display and walked over to the other two, waiting for Mrs. Young to finish.

"Just how long have you two known each other?" Colin asked, hidden knowledge glinting in his eyes.

"About seven years," Gwaine answered. "Give or take a few months."

Arthur thought he saw the boy suck in a breath as his eyes flashed with something unidentifiable, but before he could say anything, Mrs. Young appeared by his side.

"It happened over there," she said, pointing towards another glass covered display case, this one holding weaponry. They all walked over towards it, eyeing the pieces. There were several bolts, and ancient looking crossbow, a longbow, a sword, as well as a few daggers.

"Was anything stolen?" Arthur asked, running his fingers up and down the glass casing.

The curator shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "No, nothing. It's all been accounted for."

Gwaine's brow furrowed. "Then how'd you know someone broke in?"

"Like I told the other officers, they tripped the silent alarm."

"But why break-in if you're not going to steal anything?" Colin added.

Arthur hummed in agreement. "Was anything upset? Or… out of place? What lead you to believe that the thieves were here for this case?"

Mrs. Young looked at him, a vein of frustration leaking into her voice. "The display was left open. _That's_ how we knew. Also, I don't know why they didn't take anything, Mr. Jones. That's what _you're_ here for, isn't it?"

Arthur saw Colin raise his eyebrows slightly with surprise, and then Arthur saw him fight back a grin as he too stepped forward to examine the case.

"Maybe they didn't find what they were looking for?" the consultant offered.

Gwaine crossed his arms over his chest. "Okay, but why break in in the first place then... I would've staked out the place first, made sure what I wanted was here, and then broke in."

Arthur nodded. "Me too…" Then, back at Mrs. Young. "And the team before us didn't find any fingerprints? What about video tapes? Cameras?"

"No; the videos were clean. The cameras were somehow deactivated," she said coolly. "Whoever he was, he was a professional."

Colin quirked his eyebrow as he glanced at her, agreeing. "So nothing taken, no fingerprints, no viable trail to follow…"

"…no suspects."

"Thanks, Gwaine."

"Anytime."

Arthur rolled his blue eyes at the sergeant and turned back to the curator. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Young. We'll keep you informed if anything comes up."

She gave him a forced polite smile, tresses of doubt and frustration showing in her blue eyes as she nodded and walked away as her heels _click_-ed against the tiled floor.

"Well, wasn't she charming?"

_"Gwaine."_

"What?"

Colin grinned. "Well, she did just have her museum broken into."

"But nothing was stolen."

Arthur rolled his eyes. _"Still."_

But why_ would_ someone break in only to steal nothing? They left no trail, made sure there was no footage or fingerprints… Maybe it was to send a message? But then there's that _'what? And why?'_ again.

He felt his jaw clench with frustration as well as interest to their case, and he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "I'm going to call Leon; see what he's found." He saw Colin nod with approval, and then Arthur saw Gwaine grab Colin's forearm and pull him towards another display before he turned around himself and took a few steps away.

Arthur pressed the unlock button and touched the 'contacts' icon before typing in 'L.' Immediately, Leon's name was pulled up, and he pressed the icon to call him. He brought the touchscreen phone to his ear just in time to hear the first ring.

The Inspector heard Colin's laugh behind him and turned around to see Gwaine pointing at some woman with a smile on his bright face. He saw the arm that Gwaine had slung over Colin's narrow shoulders and could see both their shoulders trembling with hidden laughter. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen Gwaine so happy, so laid back. He always was with them, but this was different. He'd only known Colin for a short time and already they acted like they were joined at the hip.

"…_two more things you'll need to complete your quest: Strength… and Magic." _

"Arthur?"

The Inspector blinked and shook his head to clear it. "Hm, Leon? Are you there?"

His friend's soft voice filtered through the phones speaker. "Yeah, I'm here. What's up?"

Arthur shook his head even though he knew Leon couldn't see it. "Nothing. We're still at the museum."

"Yeah, us too." Then his voice changed a bit, curiosity and puzzlement sneaking in. "But… here nothing was taken."

"Same here; nothing taken, and no evidence at all that there was a break-in except the curator's word."

"Odd."

"Very. What about over there? Fingerprints? Cameras?"

"Nope. The report says that the area was swept clean: no fingerprints, no shoe marks. The cameras were blacked out… But one of the guards saw our thief sneaking out a window."

Arthur's brow rose with surprise. "Did he now? What else did he say?" He heard the sound of paper rustling, presumably Leon's notepad.

"He told the earlier team that he didn't get a very good look because the lights were all off, but the thief was wearing all black, ski mask, and gloves. He says he saw him sneaking out the window a few feet from the display case, and that before he could call it in, the guy was gone. That's when he raised the alarm."

"But what about security?" he asked curiously. "In general, I mean. Here, the person who broke in tripped the silent alarm when he opened the case."

"Elyan's still talking to the guard, but from when Percy gathered, they don't have an electrical security system. It's a small museum, and they don't particularly have anything of rare or expensive value."

"Wait." Arthur's brow came together as a thought passed through his mind. "What part of the museum was broken into?"

"The um… Middle Ages area."

Arthur felt something stir in his stomach as his suspicions were confirmed. "And what display was broken into?" He heard some static and thought it was Leon turning around.

"Just some featured weapons, but none of them were disturbed. The only reason they know that it was _that_ particular display case is because –"

"- it was left open?"

A pause. "How'd you guess?"

"Because it's the same here. Listen, Leon, I gotta go before Gwaine does something stupid." He heard Leon laugh. "I'll talk to you later."

"Okay. You want me to call this in, or - ?"

Arthur shook his head again. "Nah, I will."

He heard Elyan's voice in the background, and Leon repeated the question when prompted. "Elyan's wondering how Colin's doing."

The Inspector turned around to glance at the man, who was smiling at another display with Gwaine, this one, it looked like, was a painting. He quirked his brow and, just as Colin seemed to feel Arthur's amused eyes on him and looked at him, Arthur turned away.

"Good so far."

"Was that approval in your voice?" Leon teased. Then he seemed to lower his voice as it took on a different tone. "So he's not like the others?"

"No…" A pause. "I don't know, there's just…"

"Something about him?"

"Yeah."

He could hear the smirk in Leon's voice. "I feel like I've met him before."

"Like déjà vu?" he offered.

"…Kinda. I mean I suppose that makes sense. You too?"

"M-huh."

He heard Gwaine laugh at something Colin had said and heard another person in the silent museum shush them.

"I had better go," he said, "before Gwaine gets us kicked out."

Leon laughed. "Okay. I'll see you in a bit."

They said their short farewells before Arthur touched the 'end call' button on his phone and turned around again. He walked over to his partners and glanced over their shoulder to see them looking at Van Gogh's 'Starry Night,' one of his personal favorites. "Come on, guys, let's get out of here."

Gwaine whined. "But, _Arthur…" _

Colin gave him a more willing look, calcite eyes smiling, and as Arthur turned around and started walking back towards the entrance, he knew for some reason that Colin and Gwaine would follow.

And it was when they were back outside, under a bright, cloud spotted blue sky that something changed… something_ shifted._

They walked past a group gathered by the staircase, and Arthur squeezed and

'Excuse me'd his way through, as did Colin, who was right behind him, and Gwaine. Then he heard Colin give a little yelp as he tripped down a stair and felt the man's long fingers grab for and clench the material on the back of his jacket to keep from falling. Arthur turned around and grasped his forearm, and once Colin was steadily back on his feet, with a smile on his face, he spoke without thinking. Later he would be surprised at the fond amusement that had flooded his voice.

"Idiot."

He turned away, and when his mind registered what he had said, his blue eyes widened with shock. Arthur began to turn around with every intention of apologizing to the person he had only known for a few hours, but when he did, he didn't find any _expected_ emotion in Colin's eyes. He thought he would see offence, maybe even anger, but no… he saw surprise, fondness, and acceptance… and… _Are his eyes sparkling?_

He saw Gwaine glance warily between the two of them, waiting for someone to break the pregnant silence, and when Colin finally did, it was with something that, for seemingly no reason at all, had Arthur's heart pounding in his chest twice as fast, and he felt hot water pushing on the backs of his own sky coloured eyes as his heart softened and filled with unidentifiable emotions.

"Prat."

And then suddenly, everything was okay.

Colin, still smiling, stepped past him and hopped down another beige step, and Gwaine shot him a wide, comical grin, asking, "Where'd we park again?"

* * *

So... I'm not actually sure what to say. Oh! Thank you all for your reviews, including the guest reviews. They really mean a lot, and they encourage me to write more. So a huge thank you to all my regular, and non-regular, reviewers. *massive hugs* I also really appreciate your honesty and specifications in your reviews. Telling me what you liked and what you dislike about this helps me to adjust and improve my writing. So again, thank you all! :D

Please review. :)


	5. Until Then

Disclaimer: IDOM

So, I don't have much to say today other than I have a huge headache and nothing seems to help, and things are very wobbly at home right now. :P So, I think that after I post this, I am going to go hibernate and watch some Star Trek. ;)

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 5: Until Then**

* * *

They ordered in that night and had dinner delivered right to the office. Arthur, Gwaine, and Merlin were waiting out in the lobby for the delivery man since they themselves only just got back from their assignment. Leon, Percival, and Leon were already upstairs waiting for them.

"I'm bored," Gwaine groaned, sinking further into his faux leather seat.

Merlin smiled with amusement, feeling a bubble of warmth rise in his chest. He ran a hand through his ebony hair and tried to hold back a yawn from the tiredness sweeping through him. Gwaine, though, caught it and smirked softly at Arthur, who was on Merlin's other side.

"Someone's tired," Arthur grinned.

Merlin rubbed at his eyes, laughing. "It's been a long day."

Gwaine scoffed, cupping the back of his neck with one hand. "We haven't done anything today."

And then Merlin felt another bubble of warmth burst in his chest, thinking that maybe he wasn't as physically exhausted as he was emotionally exhausted. He'd been reunited with the friends he'd been waiting a thousand and some years for, so he thought that after a rather emotionally taxing day of shock and joy and trepidation, he had a right to be tired. But as much as he wanted to go back to his small cottage home beside the lake and curl up in his bed to sleep, he wanted to stay with his friends more. Much more.

So in response to Gwaine's comment, Merlin let his head roll on the back of his seat to face Gwaine and stuck out his tongue at the sergeant, who, in response, laughed and stuck his own tongue out.

"Very mature, guys," Arthur smirked, eyebrows drawn in amusement. He ran a hand through his golden hair and looked out the glass-walled window to see the pizza delivery man climbing out of his car. "Food's here."

Gwaine cheered. "Finally!" Several people in the room glanced at him, some them telling him to 'shush' through their narrowed eyes, while others only smiled with amusement.

Merlin bumped his arm and stood as Arthur paid for the pizzas and then divided the load between the three of them. After that, with Gwaine complaining about the two - "Geez, these are hot!" - pizzas in his arms all the while, they made their way to the lift and piled in before the box jerked and pulled them up.

"They're meant to be hot, Gwaine. That's the point of them," Arthur said, eyes flashing with amusement as he seemed to examine the lift.

Gwaine snorted. "Says the man carrying the _cold _drinks while he makes me and Colin carry the _hot _pizzas."

Merlin smirked at the steaming boxes in his own hands, feeling goosebumps crawl up his skin at the heat. Between himself and Gwaine, they had five pizzas: two meat lovers, one vegetarian, and two supremes. When he'd been waiting in the lobby, the question about why they needed so much pizza crossed his mind, and just when the question had risen to his lips, he had just about started laughing as his memories of so long ago flashed through his mind, reminding him of how big of an apatite the knights always had.

"Colin's not complaining," Arthur said, quirking an eyebrow challengingly.

Gwaine glanced at him, and Merlin raised an eyebrow questioningly beneath a fringe of dark hair, before Gwaine turned back to Arthur. "Colin's too nice for his own good."

Merlin snorted with laughter, and Gwaine's grin grew as Arthur's eyes danced and as his fair hair reflected the lights above. Suddenly, the bell dinged, and the lift stopped on the second floor before the wide silver door slid open. A bright, bell-like laugh sounded from within the large area, and Merlin's mind froze as his body tensed, blue eyes widening at the familiar sound.

Gwen.

"Colin?"

Merlin turned to Arthur to see both him and Gwaine staring at him with furrowed brows. So he quickly cooled his startled features and took a deep breath through the nose in an attempt to slow his racing heart rate. It didn't really work. "Hm? What's up?"

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," Gwaine frowned. "Again."

The warlock felt another fog of mixed emotions cloud his heart, and he took another breath, this time knowing the coloring was coming back into his face. He swallowed, feeling much the same as he had when he'd first been reunited with his friends, and followed their lead as they stepped out of the lift. But this time it was different. Before, he'd been rushed into the situation; even still, he felt like he was in shock, though throughout the course of the day, the surreality he felt had lessened as he'd begun to wrap his mind around the fact that it was all real and _they were here_. Now, however, it was back.

"I'm fine," he offered weakly. "Really."

Gwaine and Arthur still looked skeptical, but they brushed it off when Leon's curly head turned to greet them.

"Great, you're here!"

"I'm starving!" Percival smiled.

Elyan jumped forwards as Gwaine and Merlin both set their load down on the desk. "You're always hungry, Perce. Hm, that smells good."

Merlin hardly heard him. His beaming, calcite colored eyes were locked with a deep, pondering, chocolate brown. A smile pulled at his lips as he drank in her features. Her long, dark curly hair, her soft face and kind eyes; her full lips and her cocoa complexion. She had been the last to leave him all those years ago, and maybe that's why he saw a bright intelligence in her eyes. No, she didn't _know_ who he was -Merlin knew by the way her expressive eyes lacked the full recognition he craved to see, but she was closer to the surface than the others.

"Oh, Colin," Elyan smirked, turning around from where he'd grabbed a slice of cheesy pizza from the box. He stopped though, when he found Merlin and Gwen already looking at each other before his brow furrowed with amusement and he continued. "This is my sister, Angel."

She smiled brightly at him, looking into his face as if there was no one in the world she'd be happier to see, and a faint blush rose in her cheeks as she took a step forward, hand extended. Merlin took it without hesitation and shook before he was, again, drawn into her soft, heartwarming voice as she spoke.

"Call me Gwen. All my friends do. Well, except Arthur," she added, glancing at the blonde. "He calls me Guinevere."

Merlin beamed, eyes twinkling. "Colin."

She looked at him a moment longer, confusion filling her eyes as though she were expecting another name, and Merlin felt laughter rise in his chest, but he contained it. She pulled her hand back, smile lessened fading but still prominent, and reached for her own slice of pizza. Elyan was kind enough to hand her one, and Gwaine passed one to him as they settled themselves around their conglomeration of desks.

They spoke about recent happenings till late that night -most of which Merlin knew nothing about, a joke Gwen made about shaving Gwaine's head and him being in love with himself, and the mysterious break-ins. About two pizzas through, an officer came over to inform Leon that he got permission to requisition the surveillance tapes from outside the museum building and that the videos would be there the next day.

"Now why didn't you think of that, _Bradley_?" Gwaine quipped, grinning.

Arthur's lips worked into something of a forced sneer. _"Eoin." _

"Guys."

Gwaine's eyes flashed with humor. "Stay outta this, _Rupert."_

Merlin couldn't help it anymore and let out a loud laugh, slapping his hand lightly over his mouth as his eyes ran over the now empty precinct. The others joined in his laughter, and when everything finally settled back down, Merlin's hitching breath settled as he asked, "So how'd you guys come up with the nicknames anyway?"

It was then that he realized that that question had been burning inside him since he heard the name 'Bradley,' and immediately,he found himself more sober and so eager to hear what they had to say that he caught himself leaning forward in anticipation for their answer. They didn't speak immediately, and seemed to be mulling it over in their minds.

Finally, Gwen's brow scrunched and she said, "I don't really know." Her lips worked in thought again, and she pursed them as she exchanged glances with the rest of the group. "It was kind of like when you accidentally confuse one person with another, I guess. 'Elyan' just slipped out of my mouth one day, and it stuck."

Merlin frowned even though a no small amount of joy ran through him. "But what about the rest of you? All accidents?"

Gwaine nodded. "Yep. Gwen named me in high school -"

"- and named me when we were kids," Elyan added.

Leon smirked. "And me."

"And then me a few weeks after we'd met," Percival said.

It was then that Merlin felt his lips pulled into a grin again. "So Gwen named everyone?"

Elyan shook his head through a mouthful of pizza, swallowed, then spoke. "Leon named Arthur when they were kids -"

"- Leon's known me the longest though -," Arthur added.

"- and then I nicknamed her," Elyan finished.

Arthur smirked, taking another bite of his pizza. "But Gwen did also name my sister."

Merlin nearly snorted into his drink, feeling dread and anger swell in him, but he took care to mask his emotions carefully behind guarded blue eyes. He'd been trying to keep her in the back of his mind, for today at least, so he could enjoy his reunion with his friends. But then again, Destiny didn't ever like to cooperate. He decided the best course of action would be to he feign ignorance, and Merlin asked, "You have a sister?"

"Yep, only half-sister though," he admitted.

"Her name's Katie," Leon offered, "but everyone calls her Morgana."

Merlin felt a hand clench around his heart as reminders of Morgana's past were projected into the forefront of his mind. Her voice on John's phone had done the same thing but this felt different. Unlike before, when she was no more than a disembodied voice through a staticky line, when he might have been able to convince himself that it wasn't her, but just a strikingly familiar voice, this was concrete evidence that she too was back.

The warlock took in a long breath as the group continued to talk, and he reasoned that if the others didn't know about their pasts, then surely Morgana wouldn't either. Right? He felt his heartbeat slow as he made himself believe that. Maybe in this world, she really was just a normal person -without raging ambitions and a craving for revenge. But then, what about her magic?

He thought back, remembering what Gwaine had said earlier about knowing Arthur for seven years, and thinking that that was about how long Gwaine had known Arthur before... And just like the past, the timelines seemed to be playing out the same here. So, if Morgana did still have her magic -and Merlin feared that she did because even though it was a long time ago, she was still meant to be the darkness to his light, and the hatred to his love- she would have discovered it ages ago. Nearly ten years ago. And if she had, then things wouldn't be how they are now, Merlin knew, so did that mean...?

"See you."

Merlin was startled from his thoughts at the sound of rustling keys, so he pushed his thoughts of Morgana aside and brought his attention back to his friends in time to see Leon grab a long grey coat from the back of a chair and throw it across his broad shoulders.

Elyan pushed himself off the desk he'd been sitting on and grabbed his own coat from the back of his chair. "I should go too. I'm beat."

"And me," Percival added.

"Gwen, Arthur, Gwaine, coming?"

"In a bit," Arthur replied.

Guinevere nodded. "I've got some paperwork I need to file."

"I'll ride with them," Gwaine added.

Elyan nodded. "What about you, Colin?"

"Hm," Merlin smirked, thankful for the consideration. "I'll get a cab, thanks."

He nodded and gave Gwen a peck on the cheek. "Night, _Angel_."

Gwen smirked at her brother, brown eyes soft. "Goodnight, Elyan. Sleep well."

"And you."

After that, Elyan, Leon, and Percival left, and Gwen scooted off the desk she was sitting on and brushed her hands on her black slacks. "Well, I'm going to clean up my desk, then go home. Colin, can I call you a cab?"

Merlin grinned, ever reminded about her legendary generosity. "Sure, thank you."

She smiled at him and turned to walk down the aisle and disappeared behind a makeshift wall that was up to separate the secretary's desk from the rest of the precinct. Gwaine left to use the bathroom before they too, left, and Arthur made some excuse about needing to tell Gwen something, leaving Merlin alone to slouch in his chair. He busied himself with poking through the things on Arthur's messy desk.

He smiled fondly at the clutter, and unconsciously started to straighten it up: fixing a bundle of papers, placing a lost pencil or pen in it's holder by the computer, pushing a paper back into a file from where it was falling out. Then, he froze.

Merlin flung the file open, heart racing and eyes wide. But then his breathing slowed again as he saw ordinary documents. There was a picture of some man and what looked like a case report in the file. He felt a little disappointment ebb its way into his heart, and he looked, once again, at the sticky note he'd found poking out of the file. It was just a doodle, nothing spectacular, just a line drawing, but it was what it was _of_ that had had the warlock's heart racing.

It was Excalibur. A true to detail drawing of Arthur's legendary sword sticking out from a rock, light in the form of slantwise pen marks streaking towards it. It might have been any sword, even any sword from the fantastical, twisted stories that made up Arthurian legends nowadays, but no, this was definitely the sword that truly was made from the combined efforts of man and magic. Merlin knew mainly because the details: the length of the pommel, the small dots on the handle that made up the texture, and the runes that had been engraved into the sword, all perfectly rendered into the small blue slip of paper.

So did that mean he remembered? A smile crawled onto his lips, and Merlin was sure that somewhere, somewhere in thick, prattish brain of his, Arthur knew. And then Merlin fixed it in his mind that the others must know too. They used their old names after all. He just had to wait and help them remember.

Merlin stood up, a lopsided, impish grin on his face as the swivel chair he was in squeaked, and he walked towards where Arthur and Gwen had went with every intention of asking him about the sketch. He felt the carpet give way beneath his feet and poked his head around the corner just in time to see Gwen and Arthur's lips separate. He gave a small yelp of surprise as he stumbled, and then so did Arthur and Gwen before, in five seconds flat, Arthur pulled away from Guinevere, grabbed Merlin's arm, and pulled him fully behind the wall where Gwen's desk was.

After they were all fully concealed behind the wall, Arthur released Merlin's arm, and the warlock adjusted his grey shirt as he curiously eyed Arthur and Gwen, and, even though his own eyes were dancing with laughter and mirth at having stumbled upon the two, Gwen and Arthur were most definitely not pleased. Guinevere glanced between Merlin and Arthur, biting her nail nervously, and Arthur paced the six foot length of Gwen's office space.

"Great," Arthur muttered. "Wonderful."

Colin's smile faltered minutely. "What?"

The blonde turned on him, arms splayed, and blue eyes giving away his concern and worry. _"You!"_ he said, pointing to Merlin; then, gesturing between himself and Gwen, "Us!" He advanced on the warlock. "Colin, you can't tell anyone about this."

Gwen came up to him too. "Please, Colin. If anyone found out -"

Merlin's brow came together in confusion as memories of Camelot and the problems they had there arose. But here, in the modern world, Arthur wasn't a prince, or a king, and Gwen wasn't a mere serving girl. There should be nothing keeping them apart. They were already in love -if anything in the past had anything to show- so... "But, I don't understand, why can't you -"

Arthur understood and turned around, pacing once more as he ran a frantic hand through his golden locks. "There's a strict 'no fraternizing between co-workers' policy here. If we're caught, Gwen'll lose her job. My father -"

"Your _father?_" Merlin said, startled. "What's your father- he's the chief, isn't he? Your father's the chief, and that's why -"

"Yes, _Co_lin, that's exactly why. You can't tell anyone."

Merlin felt a rush of frustration course through him; even now, Uther was keeping them apart from each other. He looked at Arthur's face -determined and almost pleading- and Gwen's face -marred with a worried frown as her chocolate eyes begged him. How could he possibly say no? He was the one that brought them together before in the first place, and so, with a calming breath, a lopsided grin on his full lips, and a spark of excited lightning in his stomach, he said, "Your secret is safe with me."

Gwen let out a relieved breath and came up to give him a quick hug, eyes flashing with gratefulness, and Merlin laughed and hugged her back, breathing in her all-too-familiar scent, which only made him smile more. Then she pulled back and Arthur clapped his shoulder.

"Thanks, Colin. Really."

Merlin's smile softened. There were only a few times in which Arthur had ever thanked him. The last time being...

But it also meant that Arthur trusted him. And that meant more to Merlin than anything 'thanks' ever would. "There's no need to thank me, really, I -"

"So this is where you all disappeared to!" Gwaine suddenly exclaimed.

Gwen jumped before laying a hand on her collarbone as she inhaled sharply, and Merlin and Arthur both jumped, eyes widening with surprise.

"So jumpy," Gwaine added with a laugh. "Come on. Everyone else's gone home."

Gwen nodded, gathering herself as she cleared her throat and scanned her desk. She grabbed her purse and deep lavender coat from her chair. "I'm ready. Um, Colin, your cab should be here by now."

He grinned, the comically awkward air palpable. "Thanks."

The three flowed out of Gwen's work area, and when they'd reached Arthur's desk, the Inspector grabbed his coat and red scarf, and if he glanced thankfully at Merlin when he noticed his cleaned desk, the warlock didn't say anything. He only grabbed his own black cashmere coat as the threesome began walking away, pulled the blue sticky note with the drawing of Excalibur out of his pocket, and pushed it against Arthur's computer screen.

Merlin smirked at the drawing once more before "Colin!" reached his ears. He turned towards his Once and Future King, smiling his old smile, and skipped over to where his grinning friends were holding the lift for him, looking forward to the day that they remembered.

* * *

Okay, so, there's your explanations for the nicknames!

Please review. :)


	6. Beneath the Surface

Disclaimer: IDOM

Heyo! So I know it's not technically Wednesday yet (still got two hours to go), but, guys, school has begun. I don't think I'll exactly have the drive to post a new chapter at seven in the morning, and I will probably be too zonked when I get home, and I'm pretty sure you all don't want to wait until tomorrow night for a new chapter. So, I'm posting this two hours early. Rejoice!

In other news, apparently November is National Novel Month (or something along those lines), so, in Creative Writing class, we are going to be writing our own novel with a minimum of 25,000 words. Call me crazy, but I'm excited. ^_^

Anyway, enjoy the new chapter, and feel free to personally feel Merlin's angst.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Beneath the Surface**

* * *

_Trees exploded around him, and the warlock instinctively used his arm to protect his head from flying debris. He heard a man give a scream of pain, another echoing around the forest as more bullets _whizz_ed in the thick air. _

_ The warlock could barely _see _through the patches of heavy smoke and dust that polluted the once calm air. There was another explosion, and fire reigned in Merlin's limited vision. He clapped his slim fingers on his deep green, metal helmet and plugged his ear with his other hand to protect his hearing. _

_It didn't work, however, and when another bomb exploded close to him, Merlin gave a cry of alarm as another wave of fear coursed through him. He might not be able to die in a literal sense, but his body's agonizing form of magical recovery following a mortal wound would be enough to terrify anyone._

_Merlin's hands were shaking too much, and he felt himself lose hold of his rifle as he groped for the set of rings around his neck. He couldn't lose them, no matter what. _

_More men cried around him, and then panic shot through him as he recognized one of the screams: Calloway. _

_The warlock finally found his voice. "Calloway!"_

_He was rewarded with another sob, and as dirt and wood exploded and splintered around him, Merlin stumbled around until he reached his friend. Automatically, the learned physician in him was kick-started, and he looked over Calloway with a sharp eye. _

_But... he'd lost too much blood. And the warlock felt a rush of panic, knowing there was nothing he could do. There was a long, deep slash along his friend's thigh, and it was bleeding out heavily onto the forest floor. Thousands of spells ran through Merlin's head, healing spells that he'd accumulated over hundreds of years, but nothing would help now. Nothing._

_Merlin's trembling hands were covered in sparkling scarlet, and his hollowed eyes were fearful. "Calloway, hang on, _please_." _

_The man was breathing heavily and fought back a flinch of pain as he looked Merlin in the eyes. "Perce," - this was the surname he used then as a tribute to Percival - "you gotta get outta here. We've lost this battle. You h-have to..."_

_Merlin put a small amount of pressure on the wound, fighting the inevitable as tears swelled in his eyes. There was gunfire all around them__,__ but Merlin only heard it distantly, focusing on his friend. "I'm not leaving you." _

"_You... you have to. Perce, go -"_

"_Cal, I'm -"_

_Another bomb exploded, ripping him from Calloway's side, and he was thrown several feet backwards - _

Merlin was sitting upright before he was even fully awake, releasing a fearful cry. Drenched in sweat, and with his heart palpitating wildly in his chest, Merlin, shaking, collapsed back down onto his bed. His head made a heavy dent in the pillow, and the warlock covered his face with his hands as a tear leaked out of his eye, and again, he reached for the rings. This time, they lay peacefully on his nightstand, looking every bit as they did when Merlin had put preservation and protection spells on them.

They were Gwen and Arthur's wedding rings-the two bands of decorative gold and silver that Elyan had made as a gift. He had taken Arthur's ring to give to Gwen after he'd buried him in the Lake -as well as his mother's ring, but that was stored away somewhere else. Guinevere had insisted that he keep it safe ..._'for him_', she'd said. And then, one of her final acts was to give Merlin _her_ ring and to thank him and tell him to be _safe... _

Merlin's stomach twisted, and his arms wrapped themselves tightly around his middle, fighting back a sob as his body shook, still clutching the rings tightly in his fist. He curled slightly in on himself as wave of loneliness and angst threatened to drown him -so many dead- and he very suddenly pushed Arthur to the forefront of his mind.

_He's back_, Merlin repeated in his head. _He's back, she's back, _they're _back. You'll never be alone again. It'll all turn out. You'll see..._

He swallowed hard and pulled his blanket further up his body, clutching it and trying to slow his quick, ragged breathing. Another tear slipped from his eye and slid towards his temple. Calloway had been a joker, someone who'd made it his personal mission to make Merlin laugh -and he usually succeeded. He'd reminded Merlin that the world wasn't all bad when he'd been in a rut and had tried to protect him in various battles they'd fought. And Merlin should have been there, should have saved him, _protected him_. But he had lost sight of Calloway until his pained cry had called him back... and he'd been too late...

_Arthur's back_, he told himself again, squeezing his eyes shut and even seeing the words in his mind's eye. _Gwen's back, and Gwaine's back, and Leon's back, and they're all... back. It's going to be okay..._

Merlin's fist clenched his blanket, and he laid there, eyes closed, for minutes until his heart rate had lowered and his breathing was under control. Once he'd accomplished that, he opened his eyes to the darkness of his room, and, feeling suddenly exhausted and restless at the same time, but frankly anxious at the possibility of returning to his nightmare, decided to go for a walk.

With his hands still shaking, he pushed back the bedclothes and threw his legs off the bed. He nearly collapsed onto the floor when he stood, realizing that the shaking had not only been in his hands, and Merlin caught himself on his nightstand. He blinked to clear his blurry vision and quietly followed the stairs to the main floor. The moon shone in from the windows, giving the rooms a peaceful glow that comforted the warlock. He took another deep breath as he ran his hands through his hair and slipped his trainers over his socks, going outside using the side door in the kitchen.

The wind immediately caught his dark hair, and Merlin sucked in a breath of air, narrowing his eyes as his body adjusted to the light breeze. He walked past the rose bushes, away from the beech trees that lined the back of his yard until it became a light forest, and let his feet guide him. Gravel crunched beneath the rubber soles of his shoes, and the warlock crossed his arms over his chest as moonlight and starlight washed over him.

He wasn't surprised where he ended up; it was usually where he went after a nightmare anyway.

The Lake.

Merlin lifted his hurt-filled eyes and collapsed at the water's edge, weariness, sadness, and something unnamable filling him. He pulled his knees up against his chest and folded his arms around his legs, resting his chin on top of his knees. The warlock stared silently out towards the lake, drinking in its features as he took slow, steady breaths through the nose.

His eyes scanned the small, deeply blue waves, watching as they shone almost white with the moon shining down on them, and let his gaze wander further back to the island and the monument held there. Merlin felt the steady beat of his heart, and a prick of lonely sorrow entered at the sight of the weather beaten stone. It had been there long before that fateful day, and it had seemingly been the only thing that stayed constant over those thousand or so years Merlin was alive. It had kept watch over Avalon -his friends- while he'd roamed the earth, seeking knowledge and maybe an adventure or two, and Merlin had grown strangely fond of this place.

It was where he always came when he felt lonely, sad, or just... empty. He would reminisce about Camelot and his friends -remembering his old life and the joys and love he received from his friends- until he felt something within him again, that small flame that kept him going: his love for his friends.

But his friends weren't here anymore. They weren't in Avalon; they weren't in this lake. They were _back_. With him.

Merlin felt the remaining sorrow and loneliness in his heart sucked out, replaced by warm love and heartfelt relief. His words from earlier chimed in his head, and his eyelids slid closed as a small smile creased his face, mind wandering to his re-found friends.

He imagined Gwaine laying splayed across his bed on his stomach, drooling into his pillow with his bedclothes only half covering him, which was how Merlin had found him often enough after one of his nights in the tavern. He imagined Arthur laying on his bed, face buried in his pillow as a small snore escaped him. He saw him rolling over and pulling his pillow closer as he snuggled into it like a young boy. Merlin let out a small breath of laughter. He imagined Guinevere -his ever-strong queen- sleeping gracefully on her side, so unlike her -_then_- husband, and the warlock saw her soft smile as she dreamed peacefully.

And Merlin even dared take it a step further and imagined her warm, appreciative smile after he carefully woke her up in the mornings after Arthur had left them. Merlin let out another soft laugh at those memories, because it hadn't mattered to Gwen that Merlin was a man, he stayed her servant -and Court Sorcerer- to the day she, too, left this world. She had refused to let anyone else to serve her.

The warlock buried his head in his knees as he felt a shot stab of pain from the memory of her death and continued the mantra of _'she's back, she's here, she's safe_' in his head. Slowly the pain went away, and Merlin found himself looking at the bright, pale moon that hung in the sky.

It was always there, hanging as solitary in the heavens as he was on the earth. He had spent many nights just staring at it, daydreaming of things that had been, what was, and what had yet to be. He had fantasized Arthur's return many times -and that of his friends. Though, truthfully, he had tried not to. Arthur's return -the return of the Once and Future King- was sure, no matter how many times Merlin had lost faith, but his friends' return hadn't been prophesied about. There hadn't been so much as a thread of evidence that they might return.

But they had. And that was the important thing.

But they didn't remember.

The warlock turned the rings over in his hands, eyeing them longingly as if his friend's memories were locked inside. Unfortunately though, they weren't, but Merlin decided that he would give them back as soon as their memories were returned. Until then, he would continue to hold on to them for safekeeping.

Perhaps an hour went by before Merlin looked up from the rings and looked at the moon again to check the time. He stood to return to his cottage, knowing that even though he still had a few hours left until dawn, he wouldn't be getting any sleep.

* * *

_The battle raged on around him. Men's battle cries reached his ears as easily as the clashing of metal and the _zing_ of steel on steel. Arthur gripped the pommel of his sword, and gritting his teeth with effort, he shoved the man he was fighting backwards before bringing up his boot to kick his opponents chest. The giant of a man stumbled backwards, and Arthur turned at the sound of his name being called frantically. _

_Another man was swinging an axe in his direction, and Arthur leaned back just in time to miss the blade, silently thanking Merlin's perception and watchful eye. Arthur might tease him and call him a useless, but the boy had saved his life on several occasions throughout the years. He quickly defeated his newest opponent when the man overstepped his mark, and Arthur rammed him in the side before running him through. He looked around, taking in the battle. _

_Leon fought beside Elyan against a small group of men, and Gwaine fought with Percival, evidently protecting Merlin. Arthur made his way over there and blocked a blow from an approaching bandit, shoving him out of the way before knocking him on the head with the pommel of his sword. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious, and Arthur moved on, wiping the sweat from his brow and making sure that his friends were kept safe. _

_His blade clashed with another, and suddenly a sharp, incessant din accompanied the blow. Arthur reared back and swung low, and when the blades met, another loud ring echoed through the beech tree filled valley, but it didn't sound normal. It was too sharp, too foreign. What...? _

_The king's sword fell to the ground, and Arthur hastily looked towards his friends as the world began to blur and swirl, colors mixing. He thought he heard Merlin screaming his name and then... _

Arthur, still half-unconscious, reached out for the 'off' button on the alarm clock beside his bed. Frustration built up in him at being woken up at all, but what's worse was that he couldn't remember the friend he'd felt alongside him in his dream. He remembered the feeling of being triumphant, the satisfaction that came from protecting someone, and an almost overwhelming feeling of being safe himself. It all made him want to just roll over, snuggle into his pillow, and try to return to the dream -maybe even remember the main character for once.

He knew it wouldn't help though, and he forced his foggy mind to wake up for the day as he squinted at the bright digital clock. It read seven o'clock, and Arthur groaned, knowing he only had an hour before he had to go to work. He threw off the warm bed covers, feeling strangely like he was forgetting something, and nearly fell off the bed sideways when his feet got tangled in his eggshell colored sheets.

Gasping out a laugh, Arthur stood and rubbed his hand on his bare chest, stretching before he wandered out of his bedroom. His dark grey sweatpants caught under his feet as he walked down the hallway and into his spacious kitchen area, comforted by familiar surroundings. As much as the lingering scent of beech trees comforted him in his dreams, knowing that he wasn't surrounded by bloodthirsty bandits and was safe in his rather large apartment was good too.

He grinned to himself and opened his fridge, squinting his eyes at the suddenly bright light and pulling out some leftover pizza and scarfing that down for breakfast. After he'd finished that, he took a quick shower and dressed for the day in dark jeans and a button up dark blue shirt. One of the benefits of being a detective, after all, was that you could wear more civilian clothing.

A knock on his door resounded around his spacious living room and he hopped past the couch, adjusting his collar, and opened the door to Leon adjusting his tie. He felt a rush of amusement, as he usually did when one of his friends came over, and wondered again how they'd all managed to get apartments on the same floor.

"A suit? Again?" he said, smirking with fond amusement.

Leon glanced at him, a small grin on his stubbled face before he went back to folding his tie over itself. "I always wear a suit, Arthur. Some of us have to look respectable."

"And jeans aren't good enough for you?"

"Like I said -some of us have to look professional, and it's not going to be Gwaine."

Arthur hummed in agreement, laughing, and leaned against his door. "So what's up?"

Leon finished the knot on his tie and adjusted it. "Matt called; he said the tapes from the museum are in Evidence."

Arthur quirked an eyebrow. "Wonderful?"

"I thought you might want to call Colin and tell him...?" he dragged on, a smile pulling at his lips.

Oh, right.

A strange feeling rushed through him, brushing against the emotions he'd retained from his dream. He still felt like he was missing something -forgetting something, like the person he'd been protecting still needed his help. His eyes glazed over in thought, and his brow came together as he tried and failed to find the information he was looking for.

"Arthur?"

The Inspector blinked several times, clearing his thoughts. "Huh?"

Leon smirked, but his blue eyes showed a hint of concern. "Would you rather I call him?"

"No," Arthur answered, "I can do it, thanks."

The detective nodded and left to finish getting ready, leaving Arthur to... _try_ and remember where he'd left his mobile. He ran a hand through his blonde hair and let it rest on the nape of his neck, thumb fingering the collar of his blue shirt. After seeing Colin off to his cab, he, Gwaine, and Guinevere had climbed into their own car and driven home. They'd left Gwaine in the parking lot after he'd spotted some blonde he apparently knew, and Arthur had walked Guinevere to her apartment. He'd kissed her goodnight and he'd gone home and... _watched the telly!_

Arthur, smiling to himself with pride, jumped over to the couch and scanned for his phone. He didn't see it anywhere and felt a small tinge of disappointment before he started feeling around the couch cushions. Guinevere always said that he should clean up more so he would know where everything was, but he wasn't exactly a tidy person.

There!

He wrapped his callous fingers around the cold metal and dug his phone out from between the couch cushions. Arthur gave his black touch screen phone a once-over and satisfied that there was no damage, unlocked it with a slide of his finger. He hadn't missed any calls or text messages, which was good, and now all he had to do was find Colin's number. Wonderful.

Arthur had asked for his number so that they could keep in touch just before he got into the cab. He'd written it on a scrap of paper from Gwen's purse, and Arthur had shoved it in his pocket. The Inspector ran into his room and snatched up the trousers he'd worn the previous day, pulling an old gum wrapper and Colin's number from the pocket. He read over the numbers before punching them into his phone and pressed the glowing green 'call' icon on the left.

It rang several times before someone answered, and the answering voice was curious, and if he knew anything about deciphering voices over the phone, Colin was smiling brightly.

"Arthur?"

The blonde felt a twinge of surprise, and, following that, confusion as to why there was a twinge of fondness stirring in his chest.

"How'd you know?"

Colin laughed. "Well, I don't exactly give out my phone number to everyone."

Arthur briefly wondered how many friends Colin had and something else stirred in him. Concern? Sadness?

Arthur felt a smile pull at his lips, though, at the amusement in the boy's tone, and he let out his own small laugh. "I'm just calling to tell you that Evidence has the tapes from outside the museum."

"Mkay," he hummed. Arthur heard some rustling in the background. "What time should I come in?"

"I'm headed over there in a few if you wanted to just go now."

"Sounds good. It might take me a bit to get there though."

Arthur brow furrowed. "Why?"

"'Cause I live about forty minutes from London."

"O-_kay _then. See you when I see you then?"

He laughed again, sending static through the line. "Yeah, see you later, Arthur."

Arthur grinned and pressed 'end call' before slipping his phone into his back pocket and searching for his trainers. He slipped them over his socks and grabbed his coat out of the closet before slipping that over his button up shirt. Finally, he grabbed his keys off the side table by the door and slipped out the door.

"Princess!"

Arthur was hard pressed not to let a laughing grin show on his face as he locked the door to his apartment. "Good morning to you too, Gwaine."

"It is indeed a good morning, Arthur. I've had my coffee and some doughnuts -"

Arthur interrupted, using the same sing-song voice that Gwaine had as his long-haired friend jumped into step with him to the lift. "And today you're going to drive us crazy because you'll be too hyper..."

Gwaine grinned broadly.

"I only hope Colin can handle it without going mad."

"From what I can tell, he will," the sergeant answered, smiling. He pressed the 'G' button, and the doors slid shut before the lift shifted downwards. "Kid's gotta sense of humor, Arthur."

"I'll give him that. Did you hear him call me a prat yesterday? I couldn't believe it."

"I thought it was brilliant!" Gwaine remarked. "Not one person I know -besides our group, of course- has ever had the gall to do that. I was impressed."

Arthur thought he nodded, because yes, it had impressed him too, but his mind had already started to drift, thinking of another person who'd called him a prat. Because there had been _someone_, Arthur knew, he just couldn't remember _who... _or when. His mind scanned all his previous dreams -well, what he could remember of them. He thought about disembodied voices and feelings and thoughts, knowing that the answer was there somewhere.

Somewhere.

* * *

Okay, so we got a little more personal insight into some of Merlin's past. I hope you guys liked it, because I loved writing it. :D Hopefully, there'll be more things like that to come. Also, things are slowly coming together for our other characters, aren't they? Just... let your minds wander as you think of ways this is all going to be resolved. *evil grin*

Anyway, please leave a review and tell me what you enjoyed, and what you think I could improve on. I tried to mention eye color less, (because that's been commented on several times, and I can see that it needs to change, too), so I hope I did better on that. :)


	7. Pretenses

Disclaimer: IDOM

So it's six minutes into Wednesday... and I need sleep. Really, I should have stayed home today. I was so sick last night: exhaustion, detachment, disorientation, emotionless, hot sweats, and a temp of 100.9. It was pretty bad. :P I think it was a cold, and though I'm over most of it, my throat's still bugging me and making my voice crack, and I'm coughing now. So... I might stay home tomorrow. I can't think of anything overly exciting that's happening. ...Other than I'll miss work. I (finally) got a job-just at the school. A few other people and I stay after school to clean classrooms. It can be tedious, but it pays pretty well. :) Hopefully, then, I'll have some money to do some things I want to. :D

Okay, enough of my life; enjoy the chapter. :)

* * *

**Chapter 7: Pretenses**

* * *

He wasn't sure why he'd said it would take him so long to get to London. He could just use a transportation spell and be there in five seconds.

...And now he had about half an hour to kill.

He flipped over on his bed, hand venturing under his pillow to pull it closer to his head. After his nightmare, he'd straightened up his house for a while before trying to get back to sleep. He thought he must have caught a few hours of quiet slumber, even though each snatch of sleep was broken by restless stirs.

The warlock groaned lightly into his pillow, but a small grin pulled on his lips as he realized something: he hadn't complained about getting up to work for Arthur in over a thousand years. His smile widened as warmth spread through his chest, and he tried to bury any lingering horrors from the night before.

And even though, technically, he worked _with_ Arthur now rather than _for,_ it felt good just to know that he would be _there; _it always had.

He turned over once more, hopping out of bed, and he quickly showered, dressed, and settled on phoning the cab company for a ride into London. If he was going to say it was a forty minute drive from his house to London -depending on traffic- then he may as well keep in character.

Merlin only waited twenty minutes for the cab, and as he left his house, he flicked his wrist behind him to lock the door. He felt excitement stir within him: he was going to see Arthur again -_all _of his friends again. And that was all he ever had really wanted.

* * *

Guinevere pulled the door open with her free hand, grasping her styrofoam coffee cup carefully in her other hand. A rush of cold air hit her as she entered The New Scotland Yard, and the hair that had escaped from her loose braid fluttered around the edges of her jaw for a moment before falling back around her neck. She wondered why the building _always_ had the air conditioning blasting. It wasn't too hot out-a little humid, but pretty nice really.

She nodded to the receptionists as her heels _click_ed along the tile floors, and just as she heard the short _ding_ of the lift's doors closing, she yelled, "Hold the lift, please!" Her hand tightened around her cup, and the hem of her skirts bounced against her knees. The doors were still closing. "Hold the lift!"

Suddenly, a slim hand shot out of the lift, grabbing the door and preventing it from meeting its other half. Gwen slowed as the lift doors were gently pushed open and took a small breath, a smile coming onto her lips as she saw her friend.

Full lips smiled back at her, bright eyes crinkling with a smile. "Morning, Gwen."

Chuckling, Gwen hopped into the lift, feeling the designed carpet smoosh underneath her heels. "Morning, Katie," she offered. "Thanks."

"No problem," she replied, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Going up?"

The secretary nodded, taking a sip of her coffee. Another button lit up on the controller as the girl pressed it. The lift shifted, and they both leaned against the back wall. Gwen closed her eyes, relaxing and waiting until the lift doors opened again.

"Ya' know, actually, Angel, I wanted to ask you something."

Her eyebrows lifted, but her eyes remained shut. "Hm?"

"Who's Arthur's new partner?"

Now, Guinevere's doe brown eyes opened with a smile. "I thought you would know-being John's secretary and all."

She shook her head. "I'd heard something, but I haven't met him. Don't even know what he looks like."

"You didn't see his file?"

"No," she whined. "I wasn't there when John wanted to give it to his father, so he just ran it down himself. Have you met him yet?"

Gwen pushed a length of hair behind her ear, wishing again that she'd had the foresight to bring a hair tie. "Yeah, last night. He just started, so I'm not really surprised you haven't seen him around."

The lift _ding_ed again, and the doors opened to Gwen's floor. Her friend stepped off with her, taking a left towards Gwen's desk.

"But what does he look like?" she pressed, arms gesturing enthusiastically.

Glancing back at her friend with a wide smile, Gwen answered, "Well, he's tall, for one. Dark hair. Great hair, actually. Um... blue eyes, full lips, high cheekbones. Why all the questions anyway?" The dark haired woman didn't answer, and when Gwen turned around again, something was settling in her pale green eyes. "Morgana?"

Her eyes refocused and settled on Gwen. "Nothing. Just... ya' know. He's Arthur's new partner, and Arthur's my brother. I just want to make sure he's safe."

She set her cup on her desk, peeling off her light lavender cashmere jacket and hanging it on the back of her chair, revealing her modest black skirt and deep green shirt. Her eyes softened, and her movements slowed. "I understand," she nodded kindly.

There was a short moment of silence before, with a renewed eagerness, Morgana asked another question. "So what's his name then?"

Guinevere pressed the power button on her computer. "Colin. Colin James. He's quite nice actually. A bit dashing."

A smirk played on Morgana's pink, glossed lips, and her eyes narrowed with laughter. "You think?"

"I guess," she blushed. "I mean, he's... kinda cute, but I'm with Arthur."

"Hm, true," Morgana said. A smug smile grew on her lips and her eyebrow rose teasingly before Gwen smacked her arm, blushing more.

"Oh, stop it!"

Green eyes danced, the teasing glimmer fading into light humor. "You're the one dating my brother."

"Only because you said we should," Gwen added with a small laugh.

"Well, it isn't my fault you two were so squeamish, was it? It was obvious you like each other; a blind man could see it. I just gave you a push in the right direction."

The secretary smiled at her friend and typed in the password on your computer. She took another sip of her coffee, relaxed in the comfortable silence, but soon afterwards, she felt Morgana's eyes boring a hole in her back and turned towards her. "Ya' know, Colin should be in soon, if Arthur called him. If you want to wait to meet him..."

The frown on her face disappeared, a forced smile taking its place. She made a show of checking her watch before brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Nah, I'd better be going. See you later?"

Guinevere smiled kindly, settling down in her chair. "Of course."

Morgana nodded at her, waving a short farewell before leaving her office. Brushing her hair backwards, Gwen sighed. There was something odd about Morgana. Even more odd than usual. It was strange to see her have to fake so many smiles, because somehow, Gwen knew they were fake. At least most of them.

And now with the sudden holiday she was leaving for in a few days. Definitely odd. They'd grown up together, side by side, like siblings, and Morgana had always told her everything, but within the past few years, she'd been closing herself off.

"Hello?"

Abruptly shaken out of her thoughts, Gwen spun in her chair to see Arthur standing in the doorway. Her thoughtful frown immediately changed into a wide smile as she leapt out of her chair and embraced him, wrapping her arms around him and breathing in his familiar, grounding scent.

He laughed. "Good morning to you too."

Gwen smiled into her boyfriend's neck before pulling back and placing a modest kiss on his cheek. "Good morning, Arthur."

"Was that Katie I saw leaving?" the blonde asked, dropping his hands to fold behind Gwen's back.

"Yes," the secretary answered, smiling.

Brow furrowing with slight confusion, Arthur's eyes dimmed with question. "What'd she want?"

"Well, aren't you curious this morning?" Gwen teased, resting her arms on Arthur's own so that her hands rested on his broad shoulders. "We are friends, you know? She doesn't need a _reason_ to see me."

Arthur snorted and his eyes danced again. "I _know _that, Guinevere. I was just _wondering_. Goodness."

Rubbing the material of Arthur's button-up shirt between her fingers, Gwen laughed, her loosely curled brown hair bouncing as her head dropped and lifted. Arthur's grin broadened, and warmth spread through his chest at the airy sound. With one last laugh, the girl settled down a bit, but her eyes sparkled.

"She was asking about your new partner, Colin."

Something darker came forward from the recesses of his mind, and Arthur didn't understand the strange protectiveness that came with Morgana, his sister, asking about Colin, his new partner and perhaps budding friend. "What about him?"

Guinevere seemed to sense the new edge in his voice and carefully righted his collar. Her voice softened, and her hands slowly moved to press down a rising crease, eyes narrowing with confusion. "Just... about him: who he was, what he looked like, what his name is."

"Why?"

"I don't know." Her eyes narrowed further and she settled her hand on the back of his neck. "I'm sure she was just curious. Arthur?"

Arthur's eyes refocused on her and, pushing down his unease, he smiled. "It's nothing. How's she doing? We didn't have much time to talk yesterday."

Seeing Arthur's mood change, Gwen perked up. "Neither did we, Arthur," she laughed. "But she's doing fine; excited for her trip."

"Oh yeah," he smirked. "She's going to... Wales, isn't she?"

Gwen nodded. "Yes. She seems to really like it there; she vacations there every time she goes away."

A frown pulled on Arthur's lips. "Yeah, and it's where she was in that accident, too."

Guinevere frowned. "Arthur, that was years ago."

"It almost killed her."

"But she's here now," the secretary said softly. "Right?"

Arthur sighed, answered reluctantly, "Right."

Gwen smiled again. "Good. Now, when's Colin coming in? I kind of expected him to be with you."

"Said he's on his way," the blonde answered, "though..." He glanced down at his watch over Guinevere's shoulder. "He's about to be late."

"Late?"

Arthur smirked as Guinevere pulled away, settling into her computer chair as the something popped onto the screen. The detective leaned against the counter and took a drink of Gwen's coffee. "He said he would be here now 'cause he lives about half an hour from here."

"Did you just get here, then?"

"Nah, I was in the break room with Leon and Gwaine."

"You know," Gwen offered, typing on her keyboard as she talked. "If he's going to be a more-" She glanced at her boyfriend, raising her eyebrow teasingly "-_permanent_ partner than the rest of the knobs you've had, maybe he should look into getting an apartment in the city?"

"Oh, will you come off it?" Arthur smiled. "It was only two bootlickers I didn't like." His smile grew, though, and he ran a hand through his golden hair. "But that _is_ a good idea."

The secretary felt a thought gathering in her mind, and as if formed into a solid notion, she felt something stir in her that just made it feel right. Hair moving along her back as she turned, she offered, "There's still that open apartment on our floor. Maybe I could speak to the manager?"

Arthur moved forward and pecked Gwen on the cheek. "Guinevere, you're brilliant."

"I know," she quipped, smiling. "We still have to talk to Colin, mind you."

But why would she offer it in the first place? There was no guarantee that Arthur would keep this partner for any longer than he kept his others.

But there was. Gwen had seen him last night as they shared the pizza they'd ordered. Arthur wasn't closed off or supercilious like he had been with the others. He had been genuinely laughing at Colin's jokes, and there was a certain light in his eyes...

This one was different. Somehow, Gwen knew that he would stay.

* * *

It actually took another fifteen minutes for Merlin Emrys to step out of the silver lift's doors. Dressed in denim jeans and a loose grey hoodie, he ran a hand through his hair subconsciously, nervously. He looked around the well-lit room, illuminated by both the lights above, and the nearly floor to ceiling windows lining one of the walls.

"There you are!" a voice called.

The warlock turned from where he'd been facing Arthur's desk to find a wild-haired man dressed in casual jeans and a button up blue shirt, a white undershirt poking out by the collar, walking towards him.

"We've been waiting forever!"

"Sorry, Gwaine," Merlin offered sheepishly. "There was an accident on Maple."

The former-knights broad grin wavered. "Really? What happened?"

Merlin tilted his head. "It wasn't too bad. Just rear-ended, but they couldn't get the cars out of the road until the police came. Insurance policies and all that."

Rolling his eyes, Gwaine shook his head. "Stupid. Everyone okay?"

"As far as I could see," he answered, one side of his mouth pulling into a grin because, even though he was usually a happy-go-lucky guy, Gwaine still had a fierce protectiveness of others and their well-being.

And suddenly a stab of grief sliced Merlin's gut. Gwaine, his best friend, that happy-go-lucky knight, had died because he hadn't been there. He had died. And his death had been pointless. Heartbroken, vengeful, and hopeless, Gwaine had gone after Morgana with only Percival as backup. Percival had recounted the story that the witch had captured them and tortured Gwaine to death. He had died feeling like he had failed his king and his best friend.

"Colin?"

Merlin blinked, finding Gwaine a step closer to him, brow furrowed. "Hm?"

"You alright? You look a bit pale. You know, you look like you did yesterday actually. Maybe you should see a doctor?"

The warlock grinned lightly at the genuine worry in the sergeant's voice and shoved his hands into his sweater's long pocket in the front. "I am a doctor, remember, Gwaine? Besides, I'm fine. Just... allergies."

The long haired man didn't seem to fully believe him, and how could Merlin blame him? It was a stupid excuse. But he let it go, instead tilting his head behind him.

"Well, come on then. The others are waiting in the break room with the surveillance tape from outside the museum."

"Is there going to be popcorn?"

Gwaine laughed suddenly, laying a hand on his stomach. "Doughnuts and coffee if you're interested."

Merlin smiled broadly, eyes relieved, and giddy happiness stirred in him at the sound he was so familiar with both from Camelot and his dreams, and yet hadn't heard in _much_ too long. "Fine by me."

The warlock felt that happiness in him gather strength as he thought about how it still might take a little time to get used to his friends being back, but that was okay. He wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

**Quick announcement**, I now have an "Announcements" at the top of my FF profile, so check that for updates and changes. ;)

To answer a few frequent questions:

*No, sorry, Lancelot will not be coming into this story. He wasn't ever really one of my favorite characters, and I feel like he wasn't _set _enough (because he was only in like six episodes before he was killed off) character to really work with. Also, I feel like if I bring him in, it would inevitably mess with the Arthur/Gwen pairing, and I would have to address that, and it would pull away from the Arthur/Merlin brotherhood and just... no. Way too much effort and way too much drama for me.

*Yes, Gaius will be coming in. Not in this story, no, but I have tentative plans for a sequel in which he'll come in as a fixed character... So that anonymous reviewer named 'Gaius' who says he'll kill me using the Old Religion if I don't bring him in has nothing to worry about-you'll be in here before you know it. ;D I just didn't want to add him into this one because, again, I didn't want to pull away from the Arthur/Merlin brotherhood and how they rekindle their friendship, and I feel like adding Gaius here would, because Gaius was such a father figure for Merlin.

*sickly cough* I need sleep, and I don't even know what to say here anymore. So, I hope you all have a good night. :)

G'night!


	8. Investigations

Disclaimer: IDOM

Okay, guys, so I'm still sick. I've been sick for eight days now, and it's been horrible. If you've ever seen danisnotonfire's (youtuber) video ,"The Joy of Illness", you understand. If not, go watch it. It's _exactly_ how I feel. Not even kidding. All I want to do is sleep and write fanfiction. But no, I have to deal with school all day and work, so I don't get home 'til six. :P Then, I need to do my homework, chores, and shower, all the while I can barely breath. Plus, we had to run the mile in gym today, and I didn't even finish because I couldn't breath.

See what it's doing to me? I'm whining now. *shakes head* Ignore me. ;)

Enjoy the chapter. :)

* * *

**Chapter 8: Investigations**

* * *

"Look who I found!" Gwaine announced as he walked into the break room, arm slung around the warlock's shoulders.

The room, Merlin found, was large. On one side were a few short tables, two pushed against the wall and two higher topped tables sitting in the middle. Pushed against another wall were a soda machine and a vending machine, and on the wall that had a curtained window facing back out into the main room, was a counter with a coffee machine, microwave, sink, and toaster. Lounging next to said coffee maker was Arthur. Sitting on one of the high-topped tables with a box of unopened doughnuts in front of him was Leon. Elyan was pulling something sweet-smelling out of the microwave, and Percival was pouring himself a cup of coffee.

All eyes turned to them as Gwaine all but escorted the warlock into the room, and grins lit up their faces.

"Finally!" Arthur exclaimed with mild exasperation.

Leon glanced at the inspector with amusement before turning to Merlin. "What took you so long?"

Smiling, Merlin retold his story, explaining about the car accident while he sat down at the table with Leon.

"Well, it could have been worse, I suppose," Elyan supplied.

Percival nodded, sipping on his coffee. "True."

Gwaine swung his head, moving his hair, and plopped down in the chair next to Merlin and reaching for the doughnuts. The warlock pushed them towards him, and Arthur took the seat on his other side.

"Now that we're all _here_," he said, looking at Merlin accusingly, who smiled sheepishly back at him, "we can watch that surveillance tape. Though I'm still not sure why we waited."

"'Because I don't want to have to watch it a thousand times over,'" Leon reiterated, smirking. "I think that was an exact quote too."

Arthur's eyes narrowed and his lips thinned to keep his smile from spreading. "Oh shut up."

"Which one is this?" Merlin asked.

"The one from the museum we investigated," Leon offered. "Yours didn't see anything on their cameras, remember?"

Percival and Elyan came closer, Percival bearing the remote to the flat screen telly behind Leon. He pressed a button, and the large box came on soundlessly, bright colors of a child's morning show popping up on the screen. Merlin took a sprinkled doughnut out of the box as the channel changed and Percival pressed play.

It was dark. That much they could see. The time index on the video said '2:18 am 2012, April 4.' The vantage point was from across the street, at a little shop, and what they could see of the museum was lit by inner lights and street lamps. The stone building was tall, old looking, and in daylight, Merlin was sure that the stone was more cream colored than the dark building showed on the screen.

"I don't see anything," Elyan said.

Percival glanced at him, smirking with amusement. "Just wait."

Each of them watched the video carefully for a few more seconds and, failing to see anything, sighed.

"We're not going to watch this whole thing, are we?" Gwaine grumbled.

Arthur glanced back at him, a thin line on his lips that displayed his annoyance. "The museum staff narrowed the timeframe down to a thirty minute window. That's what we're watching."

"Half an hour?"

The inspector turned to Percival, and Merlin smirked, seeing the humor in his friend's calcite eyes. "Perce, fast forward through this, will you?"

Lifting the remote, the man tilted his head in acknowledgment before pressing the button and making the end of the remote flash blue. Static edged the screen here and there from the poor footage, and they waited another ten minutes until they reached the edge of the time frame.

"Nothing," Arthur grumbled.

Leon cupped the side of his face, looking bored as he took a sip of coffee. "We don't even know if there was a proper break-in. Nothing was taken after all -"

"-but what about the window?" Percival interjected.

"Janitor could have left it open overnight," Merlin offered simply. He himself had investigated several break-ins - been a victim multiple times, too - but he wasn't exactly familiar with all the technology that the police used now, which put him at a disadvantage.

Arthur quirked his eyebrow and tipped his head to the side. "True, but the janitor said that he didn't. He was interviewed."

The warlock sighed, hiding back his smile. It was true that not having any leads was frustrating, but not having any leads while working with your best friends, your _destiny_, made it all so much better. He knew he probably shouldn't think like that - the case _should_ take priority, after all - but he couldn't help it.

"What're you smiling about?" Arthur questioned suddenly.

Merlin's grin only widened as he met his friend's gaze. "Who me?"

"Yes, you."

"Oh, nothing," the warlock replied calmly, resting the side of his jaw in his hand.

Arthur's eyes narrowed as he examined the man, whose lips were drawn into a forced neutrality, making him look bored. "Well, you look like an idiot."

Warmth spread through Merlin's chest and once again, his grin broadened. He didn't remember how... _good_ it felt to be called that by his friend, who, Merlin knew, meant it as an affectionate gesture rather than a harsh criticism. It also meant a golden opportunity that Merlin wouldn't ever pass up.

"Well, you look like a prat."

Now Arthur's lips tightened as the corners drew up, and eventually they looked into a full smile. The warlock could see from the corner of his eye the surprise in Percy's, Elyan's, and Leon's face, all of whom hadn't been at the museum yesterday when he nearly fell flat on his face. But there was something familiar in their eyes as well, something of themselves from before.

"Bradley?"

All eyes turned towards the door at the all-too-familiar voice, and, yet even though Merlin _knew_ he was here, _knew_ that he was bound to run into him eventually, and _knew_ that, technically, he worked for him now, it was still a sizable surprise to see the once great King Uther Pendragon standing in the doorway to the break room. The tension in the room seemed to rise at the sudden interruption.

Inhaling deeply to calm his racing heart and magic, Merlin looked him over with a quick glance, and memories of a ruthless, lonely man, a man who caused hundreds of people fear and pain and whose legacy reverberated throughout time long after he was gone, ran through his mind. This was the man who had taught that magic was evil, the man who had tried to kill hundreds of his people even after using magic himself, selfishly. And he was also the man who had tried to kill not only himself multiple times, but also Guinevere, and even his own son once, believing that it was best for the kingdom. He was a hypocrite, and Merlin could only hope that this life has changed him, shaped him into a different person.

But as much as he wanted to stay optimistic, he highly doubted the man had changed _that_ much.

He was still as tall and still had the aura of a king about him, commanding and firm, but also with a small amount of softness in his eyes that Merlin had seen in every father's orbs. He wore a light grey, pinstriped suit, with a light blue coloured tie that accentuated his eyes. Uther's hair, silver but dark at the back and ends, was brushed backwards and away from his face, and Merlin thought it odd to not see him wearing a golden crown atop his head. His lips were drawn into a strict line, not smiling, but not frowning either, and as his now questioning eyes landed on _him_, Merlin felt a shiver run through him that made the hair at the base of his neck stand on end.

Before Arthur could answer his father's inquiries, Uther spoke again, walking towards Merlin slowly and with a look of a hunter staring at his prey. "You must be Bradley's new partner. Colin, isn't it?"

Merlin stood and amiably accepted Uther's extended arm, shaking his hand shortly and pushing back his feelings of contempt. This could still be a different Uther, and while Merlin might hold negative feelings about the man's past, he was still Arthur's father and his higher. He had to show respect for the man at the very least.

"Yes sir, Colin Jones, and you must be the Chief."

"Indeed," he answered, almost too calmly as he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "I've read your file, Colin. It's very impressive."

Merlin smiled politely, hiding the thoughts of the thousands of things that _weren't_ in the file, both positive and negative. His 'file' only showed what he'd done in the past few years of his life, as well as his 'lineage,' which was, of course, still Merlin, but no one else knew that but John. John was actually the person who had put flimsy file together in effort of getting Merlin a job here. "Thank you, sir."

The Chief nodded, accepting the gesture, and turned to his son, who was staring on at him with something like surprise hidden in his sky blue depths. "Are there any new leads with this case?" he asked, gesturing to the still paused video footage on the telly.

The Inspector glanced at the flat screen before turning to his father, and Merlin could sense a change in his character. Gone was the easy going detective who joked with his friends and called him an idiot, and here was the Arthur that he turned into when he was before King Uther, and standing straight, formal, bland, he had schooled his expression to one of neutrality. That was what Uther's presence did: it made you feel smaller, like a blade of thin grass bowing to the mighty sun. So maybe Uther hadn't changed all that much if his own son still couldn't truly be himself around him.

"No, Father. Not that we've found so far."

"Well, that is a shame isn't it?" Uther said, not sounding remorseful in any term of the word. "But no matter. I have a new case for you-"

"-but Father, there's still a chance more evidence could turn up."

"Until something _does_ then, work on this; we don't have time to chase down practical jokers," he continued, making his own viewpoint on the perpetrators clear. "There was a murder on Canal Street up on the north side of London. I want you and Colin to go check it out."

Arthur's eye narrowed marginally, thoughtfully. They'd just been on Canal Street this morning, buying those doughnuts Colin and Gwaine had so cleanly polished off. It was usually such a peaceful place, so what had happened? "Just Colin and me?"

Nodding, the Chief glanced over at the other four men in the room. "I have other assignments as well that need seeing to."

The detective only bobbed his head in response, and Uther spoke again. "Rupert, Adet, come and see me in my office in fifteen minutes."

Both nodded shortly in response, and Uther seemed to examine Colin from head to toe once more before turning on his heel and, with every regality afforded a king, walking out. The tension seemed to slowly clear after he left, leaving everyone to take a calming exhale.

"He always makes me nervous," Gwaine murmured.

Percival seemed to agree and set his coffee on the table. "I don't think he likes me much either."

The warlock felt a smile coming onto his face just as Arthur nudged his arm with his elbow. "Come on, Colin, let's go."

"Already?" he complained. The smile grew, and he ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up on the front. "I just got here."

'Well, now we're leaving again," Arthur responded, face neutral, and it reminded Merlin of their banter and teasings in Camelot and of how the king would hide his amusement with short, clipped answers.

Anticipation rushed through him, replacing the cautious anxiety from Uther's visit. He rose out of his chair obediently and waved the others a short goodbye before following Arthur out into the main room. Merlin shoved his fists in his pockets as a chill ran down him. Gwen was right; they really did keep this place freezing.

The lift passed on their left, silver doors gleaming, and Merlin hopped to catch up to Arthur. "Where're we going?"

The detective glanced back at him, still walking. "I need to get my gun."

"Oh." Merlin wasn't sure why he felt surprise at the idea of a detective using a gun, but maybe it was more of the idea of _Arthur_ using a gun. He was so used to his friend carrying a sword that a gun -something that had killed millions throughout the years- seemed so... not Arthur.

The warlock had been in dozens of wars, hundreds, and he had seen those pieces of metal abused and used for more selfish purposes. As the human race became more versatile, so did their weapons, and they created new ways of killing each other. And while it was true that Merlin himself had carried a gun more than once, he still wasn't comfortable with them, even less so than he really was carrying a sword in Camelot.

"What?" the former-king asked, glancing back once more as they turned the corner.

Merlin shook his head twice. "Nothing."

But Arthur still detected something wrong, and his voice softened, reading it as it was. "I need my gun, Colin. We're going into the field."

"You didn't use it yesterday."

"I didn't think there could be danger in a museum. And someone was killed this time."

Merlin's lips thinned, but he had to agree; someone was killed, and there was a higher risk of danger. Suddenly, a small smile pulled on the side of his lips. Danger, with Arthur, he was used to.

"Besides," Arthur continued, teasingly and with a smile, "someone's got to protect you."

The smirk on his lips grew, and Merlin laughed. "I can see how much faith you have in me. I can protect myself, you know." He'd been doing it for long enough. But Arthur didn't know about his magic, or any of the skills he'd picked up in his fifteen hundred years of traveling the world.

"What? Look at you, you couldn't harm a fly."

Merlin snorted and narrowed his eyes he scoffed sarcastically. "Oh thanks. You're very inspiring, Arthur, really."

The detective turned another corner and looked over his shoulder, smiling with humor. "You're welcome."

Blue eyes crinkling at the sides, Merlin stopped when they finally came to a counter. While the bottom half was white wall, the top half was silver grate, and there was only a small opening in the center, maybe about the size of a computer monitor, where the two spaces were allowed to connect. Behind the counter sat a rather bored looking man watching something on the telly beside him. He was rather heavy set, with deep brown hair and permanent dimples from smiling

"Jeff!" Arthur greeted.

The man, Jeff apparently, perked up immediately and stuck his hand through the opening, shaking Arthur's hand in response. "Arthur! How're ya doin'?" His accent seemed more Scottish than English, and Merlin's eyebrows rose, interested. He'd been to Scotland hundreds of times, and every time, something interesting happened while he was there.

The detective pulled his hand back and rested against the counter. "Good, fine. Just here to pick up my gun."

Jeff's face scrunched up with contempt and amusement. "Nasty little things, in my opinion." But he turned around and reached his hand into a bin on his right, bringing out a clipboard beside his telly. "You know what to do: sign here, initial there, there."

The sound of a ballpoint pen scratching paper filled the quiet before Arthur set his pen back on the paper, sliding it through the opening and towards Jeff. He, in turn, slid the weapon and holster through the grate as he took the clipboard and sat back down, smirking as Arthur clipped the holster to his belt and slid the gun snugly into the leather holder.

"He won't need one, will he?" Jeff asked, glancing at Merlin. The warlock's brow scrunched with amusement as his lip curled, and Arthur glanced back at him with the same expression on his handsome face.

"Nah. I'm still not convinced he can walk without tripping."

Merlin's heart absolutely soared, despite the jab, and he laughed genuinely. "Again, so much faith."

The blond smiled and turned back to the man behind the grate, nodding thankfully. "We'll see you later, Jeff."

Raising his eyebrow before turning back to the telly, Jeff smirked. "Yeah. See ya' later."

Arthur nodded and turned, bumping Merlin on the arm steer him down the hallway. "Heyho, it's off to work we go."

* * *

They arrived at Canal Street fifteen minutes later and as Merlin climbed out of the car, his eyes narrowed against the bright sunlight. Now, instead of Imagine Dragons "Demons" playing through the car's stereo from Arthur's IPOD, the sound of running car engines, walking bystanders, and idle chatter filled his hearing, as well as the occasion static from police's two-way radios. He walked around the car and towards the sidewalk, hopping over the curb to stand beside Arthur as he took everything in.

On their left was the street, jammed with people only concerned about getting to work on time, and completely ignorant about the murder that took place only a few feet from them. On their right, some small shops: Starbucks, Subway, the doughnut shop that Arthur had talked about on the way here. People casually walked in and out of the stores, only offering a small glance at the official vehicles parked on either side of the street and the cordoned off alleyway.

It almost made Merlin sick, how ignorant people could be to their surroundings, how many things they miss. So many things happened in one day, both amazing and horrifying, but people nowadays could only see so much. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss, as in this world, where human beings only need care about their lives and holding them together and in place.

It was one reason that the warlock didn't watch the news anymore; all they spoke of, in hurried monotone voices, were acts of violence and discouraging subjects, and they failed to see the bright side of things. Sure, they would brush against things, like a celebrity birthday, or any special holidays that went by, but they couldn't grasp the true greatness, the beauty that came with each day.

And while it was true that Merlin, as of late, couldn't either, his eyes were beginning to open again. Now that Arthur was back, he felt like he was getting a fresh start, a second chance, and he was noticing things he hadn't noticed in years. Like the refreshing crispness of the air, the scent of newly sprouted flowers, how the clouds could create an infinite amount of shapes and how they were possibly better performers than actors on television. The little things.

Arthur walking forward pulled him from his thoughts, and Merlin blinked as a policeman, in a yellow and black reflector vest, raised the neon yellow 'Caution' tape for the detective. He lowered it for Merlin though, who had been left a few feet behind from his daze, and Arthur glanced back around just as Merlin reached the disapproving looking officer.

"He's with me."

Glancing at the blond detective, the man, whose badge said 'Williams,' wordlessly raised the tape, and Merlin stepped under, thanking him before catching up to Arthur.

"Keep up, will you?"

Their eyes met briefly, and Merlin grinned at the teasing look on his friend's azure orbs. He looked ahead again, and just as suddenly, Merlin's smile wavered into a hardened frown. The crime scene, which had been blocked off and hidden from the general public, wasn't a nice sight, and one Merlin hadn't seen in a very long time.

The victim, from what Merlin could tell by looking, was a middle aged -maybe thirty- Chinese man. He wore blue, denim jeans and a brown leather sports jacket with a blue shirt poking out from beneath the zipper. His eyes were closed, and he looked to the entire world to be sleeping... Except for the dark crimson stain around his abdomen.

The warlock bent down just as Arthur leaned away to talk to a woman who looked like the coroner, and he carefully examined the wound. Dried blood gathered around the jacket's abdomen area and beneath the victim, though the blood around the wound itself still looked fresh. Merlin leaned forward, eyes narrowing with concentration as he looked at the jacket. From the entry wound, which was about an inch wide and had next to no height, Merlin guessed that it was this stab wound that had killed the man.

"...but we won't know anything definite until I get him to the lab."

Standing and turning the same time, Merlin heard the woman finish her sentence just as Arthur and the coroner stepped nearer to the body. The detective glanced over at him, putting his hands in his pockets. "Peeking already, Colin?"

"Well, I am a doctor," he answered, looking at the red-headed woman with mild humor. Arthur stepped nearer to the body, head bowed with respect as he gave the man a once-over before looking away again. "Now what?"

Gravel crunched beneath his feet as the blond stepped next to the warlock. "Now, we investigate."

Merlin snorted and laughed, using his shoulder to bump his friend. "Really? I would have never guessed."

"Idiot."

"Prat."

And so it began.

* * *

Sorry if I missed anything, guys. It's been a long day. I'm off to bed. Goodnight, guys. ;)

Please review.


	9. Two Sides of the Coin

Disclaimer: IDOM

Hello! Just so you guys know, because some people did ask, I'm feeling much better. I'm don't feel like I'm going to die anymore, which is very, very good. :D Just your ol' run-of-the-mill allergies now. ;)

Also, guys, I can't stress this enough... Treat this sentence like gold, okay? Because it's really, really important, and I'm slightly going out of my mind with it. And the sentence is: Rise of the Guardians is spectacular. No, spectacular doesn't even cover it, but I couldn't' think of a word to match its brilliance. Guys. This. Movie. I can't stop watching it. I can't stop thinking about it. I can't. Jack Frost. That's all you need to know. No, I take that back: You need to know it's amazing, and it's full of angst (so much!), friendship, bromance (epic, epic, epic, I can't even begin to tell you), and it's just overall a great feel-good movie. And, if it means anything, CaptainOzone and ErinNovelist, here on FF, are also in love with it. Really, it's like one of the only things we talk about now. :P THAT's how amazing it is!

Oh, and sorry to all the reviews I didn't get to. I got super busy with school and just... life that it kinda took over. :P

Okay, I think I've covered all the bases (*cough* Go watch Rise of the Guardians *cough*), so here's the next chapter! Now, I know that you may not be expecting this turn of events (and some of you did call it-but I'm not saying who or regarding what), but it all plays a role, I promise.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 9: Two Sides of the Coin**

* * *

As it always tended to do, Time's lithe fingers brushed against Destiny's shoulder, and things progressed.

Things changed.

Any feeble walls that had been between Merlin and Arthur came crumbling down within the next few days as they completely accepted the other, memory loss or no. Because what they had needed, all that time, was each other: the other's exclusive brand of personality and charm and wit and humor.

They became inseparable. Like two sides of the same coin.

And when Guinevere talked to the manager at their apartment building and learned that the two apartments left on their floor were, in fact, empty, she put in a good word for Merlin. She talked to him about it, and he seemed a little abashed and reluctant, but after some good-natured prodding from Arthur and the quondam knights, he smiled and wholeheartedly agreed.

They offered to help move his things, even though the apartment was already furnished, and in two more days, they arrived at his little cottage by the Lake. Merlin was still scrambling to shove things into the basement. Things that, at the moment, didn't need to be revealed nor seen: paintings he had done of them decades ago, random magical artifacts, older things that he could say belonged to his father or grandfather, but he didn't want to have to lie to them. Not anymore.

"Whoa, Colin, nice view!" Gwaine exclaimed, looking out over the Lake towards the tower.

Even after all these years, he was adept at reading Arthur, and he studied the expression on his face. At first, it had been one of humor but had quickly turned more somber as his shoulders dropped and his eyes hollowed. "Arthur? You okay?"

The detective turned towards him, blond hair shining in the sunlight. He blinked to clear the mist from his eyes. "Yeah, just... the strangest sense of deja vu."

Sighing, the warlock nodded out of Arthur line of vision, and soon enough, they had packed Merlin's things - the things he was taking anyway - into the vehicles and were headed back to the city. Merlin noticed that Arthur's clouded blue eyes stayed locked on the Lake and on the climbing tower as they drove past it, and he didn't jump into Gwaine's bantering until the Lake was long behind them.

Half an hour later, Merlin carried a box out of the lift and set it down to pull his new apartment key out of his pocket. He heard the lock give way as the key turned and shuffling through the door with the box, he groped along the wall for the light switch. His fingers caught it, and when he pushed it up, several lights, all hooked up to the switch, came on. Merlin set the box down, zoning out the sounds of his friends behind him, and looked, only for the second time, at the place that would be his new home.

The front door itself led into a small foyer, complete with a sliding door closet for shoes and jackets. There was a small end table against one of the walls with a wicker basket which, Merlin decided, was where he would put his keys when he came in. The entrance led straight into the huge, spacious living room, where a large flat screen television was set against the wall, with a complete entertainment system already hooked up. A few feet from that was a long, beige colored couch that wrapped around two sides of the large, light-colored area carpet on the floor. On his right was a completely open kitchen, fully equipped, that looked out towards the main room. Straight in front of him was the dining room with a modestly sized table that sat about four, six if you squeezed, with a lavender colored candle on the strip of tablecloth. Finally, between the dining room and the living room space, was a hallway that eventually lead towards the master bedroom and bath. Broken off the hallway, though, was an extra bedroom, and another bathroom, a washer and dryer tucked into a closet, a linen closet, and a regular empty closet.

"'Scuse me, Colin," Elyan huffed, brushing past him and more or less dropping the heavy box he was carrying on the faux-leather couch. "Goodness, what'd you have in this? Rocks?"

Merlin felt his smile widen as he set his own load down, and he turned toward his friend, leaning against the couch. "One, actually, I think."

"You really have _a rock_ in here?"

"I think..." he grinned. And he actually did. He'd acquired it during one of his journeys, this one to Rome, and, as per usual, it wasn't just a normal artifact. It carried magic. Powerful magic. "Just a little memento," he offered.

They helped him unpack, and by the next day, he was settled into his new home. Now, since he was so close to all his friends, their friendships thrived, and he was regularly involved in their daily lives, be it dinner, the movies, or just going over to their apartment for no real reason. And what he found, to his satisfaction, was that each of their homes represented them, past and present: Gwen's with her white carpets and lavender colored curtains and pillows, Gwaine's with his untidy, overcrowded furnishings, and Arthur's with his simple yet interesting looking decorations.

But along with his new apartment, he had to learn new things, much to Guinevere's amusement. Within the first few days of his living there, Gwen had had to show him how to use the built-in washer/drying that was tucked in the closet, the dishwasher, which, in all his years, he'd never used before, how to work the telly with the automatic DVR hook up, and a vacuum she picked up for him at a resale store. Merlin had blushed several times at his own failings, laughing as she helped him with the simplest things. Gwen was always patient and good-natured in her own teasings and laughed right along with him.

Merlin also found out, through Guinevere and Arthur, that Katie - Morgana - quit her job as John's secretary, something Merlin didn't mind at all, and had found a cheap place to live in somewhere in Wales. Uther was steamed about it and took it out on everyone at the office, but even that soon became yesterday's news. As long as she was nowhere near his friends, regardless of whether she'd lost her memories or not, Merlin was happy.

The case too, showed progress. Following leads and questioning those it concerned, they solved it within a week of having it. It turned out that it had been a relative who'd killed him in a drunken rage. They'd arrested the man, and after Arthur had gotten him to confess, much to Merlin's pride, he'd been registered and put on trial. It had been an open and shut case, and now, as Uther pushed another file into Arthur's hands, Merlin found his interest peaked.

"What's this?" Arthur asked curiously, peeking through the file.

Uther folded his hands in front of him, standing as regally as the king he was in his past life. "A museum curator was murdered late last night."

The warlock kept his face neutral, as he was accustomed to doing in Uther's presence, and calmly stood beside Arthur as the Chief seemed to loom over them both. "Is it connected to the break-ins a few weeks ago?"

"I believe it might be, yes."

Arthur closed the manila folder, eyes looking up towards his father. "We'll get right on it, sir."

Only nodding his approval, Uther turned and walked back towards his office.

"Well, isn't he a bundle of joy?" Merlin joked half-heartedly.

Arthur glanced at him, narrowing his eyes as a small smirk tugged at his lips. Slapping his friend's arm with the folder, he turned back towards his desk. "Watch it, Colin, he's still my father, remember."

"How could I forget? Honestly, does he like me, or doesn't he?" Gesturing as he spoke, Merlin plopped himself down in a chair beside Arthur's desk, and he continued, "I always feel like he's staring me down, like he's about to bite my head off if I turn left instead of right." It wasn't much of a surprise, really, Uther of Camelot hadn't liked him much either.

The detective laughed, and Merlin felt a burst of pride that his jabs paid off. "I don't think he's very fond of you, if that's what you mean, but he's like that with everyone."

"Or just me."

Arthur chuckled again. "If you insist."

"Where's everyone else?" Merlin asked, spinning lightly in the chair.

"Working on other cases. Come on, let's go."

"Where exactly? I just sat down."

"The morgue, you dolt, and whose fault is that?"

"Charming. Arthur, can't I relax for five minutes?"

The detective raised his eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Merlin like a child who wasn't immediately obeying his parents.

"Prat."

Arthur walked away, knowing full well that Merlin would be following at his heels. "Idiot."

They took the lift all the way down to the basement, and when the bell dinged and the lift jerked to a halt, they turned right towards two large swinging doors. Walking in, the air temperature immediately plummeted, and Merlin brought his arms up to his chest. "My gosh, I feel like we've just stepped into a refrigerator," he noted, voice echoing off the whitewashed walls.

"You did," a voice said. "It's about seven point two degrees Celsius down here."

Coming into view as they walked further into the room, the coroner looked up from his desk, taking off a pair of reading glasses as he stood. The plump man walked towards them, reaching his hand out towards Arthur. "Well, considering the circumstances, I can't say it's a pleasure to see you again, Arthur."

Smiling, Arthur shook his hand. "And it's not a pleasure to see you again, Michael."

Michael turned towards Merlin, taking his hand and shaking it too. "And who's this young man?"

Merlin smirked at the ironies and replied, "Colin Jones."

"Not nice to meet you, Colin, I'm Michael Lintch, Scotland Yard's lesser known coroner."

"I gathered," the warlock grinned.

"My father just gave me the file on the girl," Arthur explained as Michael walked towards a gurnee covered with a white sheet. "Colin, you alright? You could wait outside if you want."

Merlin met his gaze steadily, and he gave him a small smile. "No, that's alright. It's just been awhile."

Arthur, a small amount of confusion showing in his eyes, nodded, and Merlin realized his slip. He was a doctor: he should have been used to seeing these kinds of things. Even a doctor saw their fair share of bodies when they officially pronounce them dead. But Merlin hadn't. He had carefully kept himself away from that - only working with already healing patients and small things. It was a way he protected himself.

Michael shoved his fleshy hands into a pair of latex gloves and grabbed the hem of the sheet with his thumbs and forefingers, steadily pulling back the sheet until the woman's fiery red hair and heart-shaped face were revealed. "Her name, I'm sure you know, was Rose Lyngrid." Her eyes were, thankfully, closed, and her face was peaceful. "This case was peculiar."

Arthur leaned over to examine her face, eyes narrowed as he took in her features. "How so?" Merlin watched his face, associating the query and concern in his eyes with the king of Camelot.

The coroner pointed towards the back of her head. "Well," he sighed, "her cause of death, at first look, seemed to be from a blow from a blunt instrument on the back of her head, but at further inspection," he pulled the sheet back a little further, showing her shoulders, collarbone, and bruised neck, "her larynx was crushed, as if she was strangled, but there are no hand markings. Even if the attacker had won gloves, there would be something."

Merlin took a step closer, eye piquing as something flared in his eyes. "There's nothing?"

"No."

"Were those her only injures?" Arthur asked.

Michael glanced at the detective, shrugging. "Other than a few bruises here and there, yes."

"Any internal injuries?" Merlin asked.

Arthur glanced between the two as Michael gave the boy a questioning look. "He's a doctor."

"Oh," he nodded, amused, "and no, nothing internal, but I'm running a blood test now to check for poisons or inhibitors."

"Great," Arthur nodded. "Come on, Colin, let's get going. We've got some leads to track down."

"Wonderful," Merlin muttered.

Michael walked them out. "Come back and see me sometime," he said, "when there isn't a body to be looked over."

The detective laughed, glancing back at his friend and nodding before they walked out.

* * *

An hour later, Merlin and Arthur stood before a drab apartment door, and Arthur knocked. The hallway smelled of oranges from some cheap air freshener, and the peach wallpaper helped lighten the place up.

"What's his name again?"

"Brian Sheffield. Remember, he was working the late shift with Rose the night she was killed."

"Yeah, got it."

The door opened, showing a middle-aged man with receding brown hair and brown eyes. "Hello. Can I help you?"

"Hello," Arthur began, "I'm Bradley James, from Scotland Yard, and this is my partner Colin Jones."

"Yes, they said you would be coming."

Merlin's brow scrunched. "Who did?"

"The officers who took my statement the first time. Please, come in."

The man walked further into his apartment, and as Arthur took out a pad of paper and a pen, Merlin looked around, spotting several children's' toys scattered around the living room, while everything else was tidy. "How many kids do you have?"

The man gave him a small smile, eyes glancing around the room. "Two. One's three; the other, five."

"Congratulations."

Brian nodded and sat down in a loveseat, waving his arm in invitation for them to sit on the opposite couch. "This won't take too long, will it? My wife should be home soon."

"Not at all," Arthur placated. "We only have a few questions." The man bobbed his head, a cue for him to start. "Mr. Sheffield, I have it down that you were working security the night Ms. Lyngrid was murdered. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"And when was the last time you saw her when you went on shift?"

His eyes glanced around, but from years of experience, Merlin could tell that he was not nervous, but genuinely trying to remember. "It was when I was doing my rounds. I checked into her office to make sure she was alright. She was, and I went back to walking around the museum, ya know, just routine stuff. But then twenty minutes later... I found her unconscious in one of the wings, and I called an ambulance."

"What time was this?"

"I think... It must have been around midnight."

Merlin scooted forward on the couch, memories of the other break-ins running through his head. "What wing did you find her in?"

"The Weapons Wing. It just features the evolution of weapons through time."

"Did you find her near any particular item? Any specific weapon?"

Brian shook his head, folding his hand on his knees as he leaned forward. "No. She was just... in the middle of the floor." He bowed his head, and his eyes lost their focus as he spun his wedding ring on his finger.

Merlin had seen that look many times throughout his years. Hell, he'd worn it... that look despair and regret someone gets when they begin to flounder in their own badgering questions. Was there something they could have done, something they _should_ have done? And then, when you've thought of all the possibilities, you have no way to do it over...

He bumped Arthur's knee with his own, and after gaining his attention as he looked up from his notepad, he jerked his head towards Brian. Arthur caught the look and stood, shoving his notepad in his pocket and stretching his hand out. "Thank you, Mr. Sheffield, for your time."

He stood, grasping Arthur's hand and shaking it. "Is that all?"

"For now," Merlin answered, knowing from their previous case that that was how Arthur would respond. He shook Brien's hand. "Thanks again."

Brien let them out, and when the door closed, Merlin let his head hang a little as they walked. "He's really beaten up, huh?"

"Unfortunately, that's what happens," Arthur responded. "Someone you know is killed, and you can't help your own mind's wanderings. It eats you inside, and you can't stop it, only live with it."

When Arthur finished speaking, there was a very familiar hollowness in Merlin's chest, and, flaring his nostrils to hold back his own emotions, he said thickly, "You sound like you're speaking from experience."

The blond sighed, "I am."

They exited the apartment complex, sunlight hitting their faces as their shoulders brushed against each other. "What happened?" Merlin asked softly. "If you don't mind my asking, I mean. I know some people -"

Arthur chuckled, glancing at him with tender eyes. "It's alright, Colin," he reassured, smiling at how his friend stumbled over his own words. "It's just... my mother died when I was very young - in childbirth actually."

"Oh," Merlin breathed. He thought it might have been that - it had happened in their other world, but he wanted to make sure. There was no way he was going to let Arthur go through anything alone. He knew what that felt like.

"I never got to know her, and the only thing I know about her is from a picture my father keeps on his desk and a few he has around his house. I always felt like it was my fault that she died like that."

Merlin stopped him, pulling him over to the side of the walkway as people shuffled past them. "Arthur," he said with added passion in his voice, "it wasn't your fault." Because of that he was sure. Whether it was Uther's fault this time or not, Arthur couldn't get tangled up in this and blame himself again. "She gave birth to you, and I'm sure that seeing you was the best moment of her life. And I think that she wouldn't have had it any other way. Do you think she would have wanted you to blame yourself? She would want you to live your life, and to be happy doing it. Trust me."

The detective looked at him with glazed, sparkling eyes, lips set in a firm line as his hands fidgeted in their pockets. "Thanks, Colin."

Merlin nodded, clenching his teeth and biting his tongue, wishing that he could only reveal his true self. He always said that he never wanted recognition for his deeds, and while that still held true, he wanted his friend to be bonding with him - with _Merlin_ - not some fictional alias. The person was the same, but the name that held it and the name that had a place in Arthur's memories of these past weeks, was not. Colin, not _Merlin,_ and that hurt the warlock more than he could say.

They continued their walk back to the car, which they'd parked a few blocks off to enjoy the crispness of the air, and Merlin ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. "So what about you, then?" Arthur questioned. "Your parents, I mean."

Merlin offered him a small smile, mind reviving memories one thousand and five hundred years old. "I, um, grew up with my mum in a small village a long way away."

"No dad?"

"No, but... Let's just say that he didn't even know he had a son. Something happened, and he had to leave before he knew my mother was pregnant."

"But you met him?"

"One day, yes," he grinned.

Arthur pointed an inquisitive eyebrow and smirked back at him as they reached the car. And, pausing before he opened the door, the detective asked, "Where're your parents now?"

The warlock felt a familiar hurt in his chest again, this one of a different brand, and felt his breathing constrict as he ducked his head. "They're gone now. Both of them. They died a long time ago."

Letting out a sigh, the blonde swallowed. "Colin, I'm so sorry. I didn't... I didn't mean to..."

"No, it's alright," he said, giving him a tight-lipped smile, that ever-ready mask, to hide his true feelings. "It was a long time ago."

Arthur looked like he was going to say something else, but as Merlin walked towards the other side of the car, the words were lost on his lips, and a memory plowed its way unbidden to the forefront of his mind.

_"Have you been here all night?" _

_ "I didn't want you to feel that you were alone." _

_ "You are a loyal friend, M -" _

"Arthur?" Merlin called from inside the car, amused. "Are you going to stand there all day?"

The detective climbed in the car and, mind buzzing as he started the engine, drove away as he thought about his increasing daydreams.

* * *

Once more thing: Guys, please check the "Announcements" section on my profile in regards to "What Happens". That might clear some things up. ;)

I hope you liked it! Feedback is always appreciated. ;)


	10. Unspoken

Disclaimer: IDOM

It's that time of the week again-update time. I would say that I look forward to this more than you guys do, but I'm not sure that would be true. I, personally, look forward to it because it typically means that I can go crash afterwards and not have to worry about updating this for a week while I read the amazing reviews I receive.

Speaking of which, in a lot of your reviews last week, I also found _several_ other people who are in love with Rise of the Guardians. *tackle hugs _all of you*_ A guest reviewer actually expressed his/her hope that I would write a RotG fanfic... I have to be honest, I had already begun one before I posted last week. :D So if you haven't seen it here yet, it's called "Unbroken". I still have more bunnies coming (Guys, they won't stop), but I'm not writing anything else major (ex. other than one-shots) until I get some of my other things done. :) So please check it out if you have the time.

Anyway, I have a Studio Art meeting at seven am so I really need to hit the hay, guys. Goodnight to all in advance. Dream of Jack Frost tonight. ;)

Enjoy:

* * *

**Chapter 10: Unspoken**

* * *

It was only later that day that he learned from Guinevere that Morgana was going to be in town in the next few days. Gwen said that she was planning to have lunch with her father and brother and then leave again the following morning.

"You never met her when she worked as John's secretary, did you?" Guinevere asked as they ate dinner at the office.

Merlin shook his head. "Nope."

Arthur took a drink of the soft drink he'd picked up. "Great. Because I really want to spend an afternoon with my obnoxious sister."

"Oh, come off it, Arthur," Gwen teased. "You'll have fun, and you know it."

"Yeah, alright."

The time passed too quickly for Merlin's liking. The next day they followed up another lead that, again, only took them towards another possible inquiry. He went to bed that night with anxiety turning in his stomach as he thought about his and Morgana's first meeting. The others didn't remember, so why should she? Maybe this was his second chance. Maybe this time he could save her.

But she had killed so many people that Merlin cared about: Gwaine, Elyan, and, indirectly, Arthur. She had cast Camelot into a dark depth many times, making the people suffer and hide in fear of magic. She had caused the suffering of so many, so many that her legacy still reverberated through the cosmos, and everyone knew her as the evil witch: Merlin's greatest enemy.

Could she be redeemed?

He finally fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, and he met Arthur in the hallway that morning half-asleep, but like usual, he was raring to go. Arthur, however, looked past his energetic smile and noticed the dark shadows underneath his eyes.

"Couldn't sleep?"

As if in answer, Merlin let out a large yawn. "No."

And even that day, all they really did nothing save for waiting for a fingerprint scan to come back that they'd recovered from one of the cases at the museum. Merlin had groaned and asked if there was anything that they could do while they waited, and after receiving an answer of 'no,' he went and chatted with Guinevere, like they always would back in Camelot.

That day, too, came to a close, but when Merlin fell asleep that night, exhausted from lack of sleep, he had nightmares about there being two Morganas: the past one, and this modern one. Their images were the same save for their clothing, but they both wanted to kill everyone he was trying to protect. He woke up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily, and ran his hand across his face. He didn't sleep for the rest of that night, either.

Morning came as he was watching the telly, and he forced himself into the shower and into fresh clothes. He made himself a small breakfast and then, as usual, met Arthur in the hallway just as he was coming out of his apartment.

"Morning," he said, forcing a smile while uncertainty stirred in his stomach.

"Good morning, Colin," Arthur smirked as they stepped into the elevator. "Come on. Katie should be waiting at Scotland Yard."

"Katie?"

A look of confusion passed Arthur's irises before he remembered. "Morgana."

"But I thought you were meeting her for lunch?"

The detective shook his head just as the elevator stopped. "She called late last night. She wants to go shopping before lunch, and my father was glad to give me some time off - says I've been working too hard."

"Erm, alright."

"Don't worry, you've got the day off too. That was easy enough to negotiate."

Merlin paused as his fingers curled around the car door handle. "Then why am I going into work with you?" He could easily have stayed at home and avoided a meeting altogether. However, he realized that if he didn't go, he would never know if Morgana _knew_. Her magic, if she still had it in this life, might have given her an advantage in regards her memories, he thought, but if it didn't, all the better for them all.

"Because I don't like to drive to work alone," Arthur responded, a sly smirk on his face.

The warlock rolled his eyes and climbed into the car. "Where's everyone else, then?"

"They're already there, Colin," he said, starting the car.

Merlin reached around and buckled himself in. "You know, I think you just like to drive me crazy."

Arthur flashed him a cheeky grin. "Maybe."

The detective ran his hand through his hair just as he started backing up, delicately turning the wheel before putting it into drive. After they'd merged into traffic, it wasn't long before they arrived at the station, and Arthur parked beside the curb, saying he'd be back soon anyway.

Anxiety ran through Merlin as they raced up the stairs, and he pictured Morgana in this world, with her silky black hair and shining emerald eyes, wearing regal clothing and flashing an eerie, yet tantalizing smile everywhere she went. Would she be that way in this world? Or did she change? Could he help her this time? Or was it too late?

They caught the lift and rode it up, and just as the doors opened, two young women's laughter reached their ears, and Merlin felt an arrow pierce his heart. It was her laughter. Memories ran through his head of those beginning years in Camelot, when Morgana was still an innocent, naive Lady. The woman who wasn't afraid to stand up to Uther - the only person courageous enough to. The woman who was always ready to fight for what was right.

"Bradley, you're finally here," Morgana smiled. She wore well-fitting black slacks and a sleeveless, silken green top that brought out the color in her eyes. Her flesh was as pale as it ever was, and the starkness between that and her dark, straightened hair only brought out her natural beauty. "It's about time."

Merlin's breath was stopped in his throat, and he couldn't even swallow as he tried to maintain a casual look. He couldn't let her, or them, see the fear or the wariness or the hope in his eyes. They couldn't see the way that his eyes flickered between Arthur and Morgana, ever restless, as memories of Morgana trying to murder him ran through his head. Because that couldn't happen again.

"What?" Arthur grinned.

"You were taking forever."

"I'm right on time."

"No, you're not."

"Are too"

"You two never change," Gwen interrupted, laughing.

Arthur and Morgana both looked at her with small surprise before Morgana's grin broadened, and she glanced at her brother. "Guess not. And who's this?"

She didn't know.

Morgana was looking right at him, her eyes scanning him, but Merlin didn't see any recognition in her irises. She didn't...

Gratitude at whatever force that kept her memory from her lit within him, so much so that he could breathe again, but he reminded himself he couldn't hope for too much. He knew that though they had the capability to start anew, it was still unlikely because if they ever recovered their memories, they would remember their motives-_her _motives, his mistakes, and their war. Everyone's war.

"Colin. My new partner."

"Oh! This is him," she said, her eyes widening with remembrance. Morgana put her hand on her hip and curled the fingers on her other hand over that. "I used to work here a few weeks ago. Right when you started, actually, but we weren't ever able to meet."

"Yes, I've heard a lot about you," Merlin responded, finding his voice. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"And you," she nodded, smiling at him. She was the same person, but she possessed a different mind, a different personality. She no longer played the role of the mad, perverted version of Uther's ward. "Arthur, we better get going; the shops will be opening."

"Yeah, of course, I mean it's not like they won't be there all day just... waiting for customers."

Morgana, or Katie, rolled her eyes in mock annoyance. "Goodness, Arthur, you can be so annoying at times."

"Where's Father anyhow?" Arthur asked, furrowing his brow. "I thought he was supposed to be with you."

"Someone called him about another case; he had to leave."

"Ah, alright."

Guinevere smirked at her boyfriend and suddenly looped her arm through Merlin's, reminding him of when she would do the same in Camelot. "Well, while you two are out shopping, I thought Colin and I would go see a movie."

The warlock smiled down at her, laughter overshadowing his wariness. "What, you're off too?"

"For the day, yes, but I have to work tonight."

"Then why -?"

"Morgana dragged me in here to keep her company," she answered.

Morgana laughed, and Merlin felt something new bubble up in his stomach. "It's not like I ordered you to come, Angel."

Guinevere smiled, giggling. "I know." Looking at Merlin, she added, "It's just that ever since we were children, I've always acted like her little servant: helping her pick out her clothes, doing her hair, even getting things before even she knew she needed it."

"Sounds like you," Merlin snorted. "What did you have in mind for a movie anyway?"

Gwen smirked deviously at him. "It's a surprise. ...And it's starting soon, so we'd better get going. I'll drive." She left to grab her purse out of her desk and returned shortly with it slung over her forearm. "Well, you two have fun, and don't drive each other crazy, alright?"

"No promises," Morgana joked.

* * *

Driving out of the parking lot ten minutes later, Merlin rested his left arm on the window frame of Guinevere's car, feeling the breeze ruffle his hair as she merged in with traffic. The warlock was lost in his thoughts as they stopped at a red light, and he sighed. The meeting with Morgana had, overall, gone very well. He had learned that she didn't, in fact, have her memories back, and the anxiety he had felt had ebbed into a small seed in the back of his mind. For now, at least, he wouldn't have to worry or deal with her.

"So where are we going, then?" he asked.

Guinevere glanced over at him. "Classic Cinemas Theater. Ever been there?"

The warlock let out a laughing breath. "Nope."

"Thought not," she grinned at him, turning her turn signal on. "What exactly have you done?"

"Erm." Fifteen hundred years of memories ran through his head, and he laughed on the inside, while also feeling the pain of not being able to tell her about any of it. "Nothing really."

"But don't you have mates? People you go out with besides us? I mean, you've been living in the London area for a while. No one at your old job?"

Merlin swallowed, avoiding her glancing eyes. "Not really." There was a moment of silence between them, but the sounds of traffic did nothing to hinder the lonely thoughts running through the warlock's mind. Gwen could always do that: delve into his mind and pluck out his weakest point and use it, not to her advantage, no, but to his. She helped him heal.

"Must be quite lonely," she remarked, "living all the way out there by yourself."

Oh, the lake house.

"It wasn't all that bad," he lied.

Guinevere glanced at him again, doe brown eyes narrowing. "You're hiding something," she said, her voice hollow and quiet, as if remembering... But she... Merlin couldn't help but look at her, eyes widened a fraction as hope made his heart pound in his chest. "But I know..." And she blinked, her eyelashes fluttering, and that little flash of true recognition was gone. The warlock bit his lip, the hope withering painfully. "Sorry, I don't... don't know what that was."

He gave her a small, forced smile as she turned right, and the theater came into view, "No, that's alright."

And she just smiled at him.

* * *

"Morgana, where're we going?" Arthur asked, trailing behind his sister on London's busy streets.

She slowed to let him catch up, and he shouldered his way past a couple before he reached her side. "We're getting coffee, you goof. I told you that."

"You said you _wanted_ coffee."

"Which means we're getting it."

Arthur groaned. "Fine, but you're buying me one too."

"Fine," she smirked. Turning into the Starbucks on their left, she slowed to a casual stroll as the air conditioning blew on her face.

They both quickly ordered their coffee, Morgana getting a Mocha Cookie Crumble Frappuccino, and Arthur getting a typical espresso with a shot of caramel and a blueberry muffin. Once outside, the turned left again, Morgana leading the way down the sidewalk.

"Now where?" Arthur asked, bringing his cup to his lips.

"The shops, of course. That's what I came here for anyway."

The detective rolled his eyes good-naturedly and followed his sister into a store whose showcase featured mannequins in colorful shorts and tank tops. "So you didn't come here to visit your amazing brother and father?"

Morgana glanced at him, humor running through her eyes as she looped her arm through Arthur's. "Well, that's just an added bonus, isn't it?"

"Suppose so," he smiled.

Glancing away from him, her eyes widened at a black dress featured on one of the mannequins. "Oh, that is _gorgeous." _

Arthur eyed it over, looking at the thin straps, the silky material, and how it crumpled around the waist and breast. "Looks very formal."

"Oh, Arthur, you're such a man," she laughed, taking an identical dress down from the racks. "You couldn't spot a lovely dress if you were wearing one."

The blond laughed. "Which, by the way, will _never_ happen."

"Oh?" she teased. "And what if sweet _Guinevere_ was wearing one?"

Arthur felt his throat go dry for a moment as surprise sprung up in his eyes. "What?"

"Please, Arthur, I've seen the way you look at her. I noticed it long before I'd left."

"And you don't mind?"

Brow furrowing in amusement, she answered, "Why would I mind? Gwen is a good friend of mine and a wonderful person. I'm pleased for both of you." Sighing with relief, Arthur grinned at her. "It's Father you have to worry about."

His attitude changed in an instant, and Arthur let out a short breath of tolerance. "Tell me about it."

Morgana smirked. "I don't have to. Do you remember how he acted when I was dating Patrick?"

"Ha! That was... Whoa," he laughed, shaking his head. Morgana began to walk towards the changing room, and Arthur followed. "I think he scared Patrick to an inch of his life."

"Yes, well, he can be a right prick sometimes," she said. "Just be careful that he doesn't find out about you and Guinevere."

"I'll be careful."

She ducked into one of the changing stalls, handing Arthur her coffee to hold, and threw the dress over the door as she changed. "Actually, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about."

He secretly took a sip of her frappuccino, relishing the coolness. "Hm?"

"Your new partner Colin. What do you think of him?"

His brow furrowed, and he took another sip of her drink. "Erm, why?"

She pulled the dress of the door, and Arthur heard the _clicks_ of her taking it off the hanger. "Answer the question, you prick."

Arthur chuckled and leaned against the wall. "He's a good guy. Very quick-witted, smart, clever."

"Is he a good partner?"

"The best I've had so far," he said, his eyes losing their focus. "He doesn't quote to rule book, he's not an idiot, and he's not afraid to stand up to me..."

_"And how long have you been training to be a prat, my lord?"_

"Well, he's brave, I'll give him that."

Arthur blinked rapidly to clear his thoughts. "Yeah."

"Just... be careful, alright?"

He let out a small laugh. "Why? And when did you turn into such a worrying sister? First father now Colin?"

"It's just... I don't trust him."

He took another sip of her drink. "And why is that?"

"I don't know, I just... he's hiding something. I know it. What about his file? Did you read that?"

"Yeah, alright," he scoffed. "And no, it was classified."

"Oh yeah, nothing suspicious about that," Morgana said sarcastically.

"Hey, he did some other cases with John. His father too. They go way back, apparently. If John trusts him, so do I."

The door unlocked with a click, and Morgana stepped out. "Hey, genius," she smirked, "you have whipped cream on your lip. And, oh look, mine's the only drink with whipped cream." Feeling a blush creep up his neck, Arthur used his sleeve to wipe away the cream. "Anyway, how's this dress look?"

She turned round, and Arthur took in how it hugged her figure, as the material suggested, and ended just above her knee. "You know, I think you took me shopping instead of Father because there's no way he'd let you buy that."

"Well, there are advantages," she smiled, brushing her hair behind her ear. "So you like it?"

"I suppose. I mean, apparently I wouldn't know a beautiful dress if I was wearing it."

"You prick," she laughed. Morgana spun again. "Wonderful. I'll get this and then we can go shopping for you."

She disappeared back into the changing room, and Arthur rolled his eyes, smirking. "Wonderful."

* * *

Oh, before I go, I did want to make a few song suggestions:

"Is This The Day?" by Hoobastank-Guys, I can't stop listening to this song. It is so deep and so meaningful and so absolutely heartbreaking... I was sitting on my cough with my knees up, rocking in place as my fingers intertwined with my hair. I had so many feels. Just imagine Jack Frost when you listen to this. Blame CaptainOzone when the tears start falling. ;)

"Angel With A Shotgun" by The Cab-I was just showed this song today by ErinNovelist. Odd title, I know, but it's fantastic. ;)

"Holding On" by Simple Plan.

Okay, thing time for real... G'night, all! Thanks for reading.


	11. Catching Breath

Disclaimer: IDOM

Heyo! Right, so, there is a _ton_ of things happening in this chapter. As you can see from the scroll bar, this is the longest chapter so far-escalating to fifteen pages. ;) Seriously, though, guys, this chapter has been written since January (2013), and it was my ultimate explanation of what happened to everyone after the season finale, which was still very, very raw for me. I remember staying up really late to write this because I just couldn't get the idea out of my head. Like, I wrote this scene before I even had a solid plot for this story. It was this scene and two others (which are still to come) that allowed my mind to create a solid basis for this story. :)

So anyway, I hope you like it. It's pretty epic, in my opinion. There's a lot to keep up with and a lot of explanations.

Enjoy:

* * *

**Chapter 11: Catching Breath**

* * *

Merlin and Gwen got back to Scotland Yard just before Arthur and Morgana did. The warlock was lounging casually in a chair beside Gwaine's desk, while his friend leaned back in his chair, feet up on his desk. Guinevere, bless her, had run to the break room to get them all coffee.

"I am going home and sleeping for a fortnight," he said, running a hand through his hair.

Merlin grinned at him. "What'd you do anyway?"

Glancing at him, Gwaine narrowed his mirth filled eyes. "Well, _Colin_, since you and the Princess were_ both_ given the day off, a certain boss of ours decided to let us handle _your_ case for today. We had to go to this other guy's house to get an interview because the fingerprints on the glass case matched."

"And?"

"And we found out that he was just the _janitor_," Gwaine groaned. "Really, you'd think that someone would have thought of that before!"

"So there's no more leads, then?"

"None. I tell you, this case just keeps hitting walls."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"Princess! Speak of the devil!"

Merlin craned his neck to look behind him just as Arthur and Morgana walked up, both carrying white bags. "Heyo."

"Hey," Arthur replied, gratefully setting the bags down and twisting his wrists. "Geez, I never knew shopping could be so painful. Why did I carry _your _things anyway?"

Morgana smirked. "That's what brothers are for, aren't they."

"No."

Bringing her hand up to his shoulder, Morgana narrowed her eyes, humor dancing in them. "You're in denial. I understand." Turning to address the rest of them, she said, "I'll be back."

"Where're you going?" Arthur asked.

"Restroom, stupid."

She walked off, and Gwaine whistled. "She's got a quick tongue, I'll give her that."

"Eh, I've heard worse," Arthur grinned.

Merlin raised his brow, thinking about all the things she would say back in Camelot, and stood. "I'm going to see what's taking Gwen so long."

Arthur glanced at him, stealing his seat. "Why? Where is she?"

"Getting coffee," Gwaine answered.

Merlin nodded before running a hand through his hair and walking off. He was halfway there before a hand shot out from behind the corner, gripping his wrist and pulling him around the edge of the wall. Releasing a small sound of surprise, Merlin stumbled sideways before the hand on his wrist let go of him, and he spun around.

Morgana.

She looked as normal as ever, but Merlin was reminded of the times she had done this same thing in Camelot. Neither time had brought good news, and why had she...?

"Katie, what–?"

"Oh, stop it, Merlin. We both know that's not my true name."

As if he'd been punched in the gut, Merlin felt his breath leave him, and his mind suddenly locked.

"We both know the truth, don't we?"

All he could do was stare at her, bewildered, as she so casually questioned him. She knew... How could she...? An inquiry of his own rose to the surface, and he quickly collected himself. "How can you remember when the others don't?"

She smirked slyly at him, the way she used to, and the hair on the back of Merlin's neck stood up. "Oh, come on, over a thousand years has passed, and that's the only thing you can think of?"

"Morgana," he said, low and dangerous. "How long?"

"Why don't you tell me how _you _remember, _old friend?"_

Merlin narrowed his eyes, feeling his magic rise up to defend him if need be, but he forced it down. "Morgana-"

"No," she interrupted. "Actually, don't tell me. We don't have time just now. Meet me tonight, and we'll talk."

"And where did you have in mind?" he asked slowly. Suspicion crawled through his mind, but somehow, curiosity and a desire to _know_ triumphed over his instincts of wariness.

She glanced away from him, thinking. "The Grand Charpe. On Fifth Street. We'll meet at nine, have some dinner, get caught up, hm?"

"Fine."

"Good," she smirked. "Oh, and, Merlin, it's a formal restaurant, so brush off your best suit."

She started to walk away before abruptly turning back around to press her slim index finger to her lips. "And don't tell the others," she said, smiling. "They'll only think you're mad."

Merlin only felt frustration mount in his chest as he watched her walk away. She remembered. Truly, wholly remembered. He could see it.

Why hadn't he seen it before?

Maybe because he'd been too hopeful: Nothing had happened in the years they'd been here, so he thought that... but of course not. Destiny, of course, always wanted to challenge him, give him new things to handle. Morgana was just Her pawn once more. As was he.

"Colin?"

He turned quickly, startled. "Gwen! Don't scare me like that," he grinned.

The secretary laughed, taking a sip of her coffee. "So what's with Morgana? I saw you two talking. It looked pretty important."

Merlin tilted his head a little, wondering just how much she saw. "Oh, it was nothing. Just..." An idea came to his mind. "We were talking about Arthur."

"Oh. What about?"

"Just... this case we're working on," he lied.

"Erm, alright. So are you heading home then?"

Merlin smiled as they walked back towards the group together. "Soon, yes. You?"

Brown eyes narrowed with her smile. "I have to work, remember?"

"Right. What time should you be home, then?"

"Late. I get off here at ten, and I'll probably catch a cab home."

Merlin furrowed his brow, trying forcibly pushing any thoughts of Morgana away. "What about your car?"

She took a sip of her coffee, shaking her head. "I loaned it to Elyan."

"There you guys are! Goodness, you take forever!" Gwaine bellowed.

Guinevere's smile broadened, and she held her mug higher, emphasizing it. "The coffee machine mucked up, and I had to fix it." She glanced around, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Where'd Morgana go?"

Arthur passed a ball from Gwaine's desk back and forth between his hands. "She left. Said she had to go get ready for a dinner date, whatever that means. You know how she is."

Gwen giggled. "I wonder who the bloke is now."

Merlin, not saying anything on the matter, asked, "What time is it anyway?"

Glancing at his watch, Gwanie answered, "About seven."

He only had two hours before he met his most dangerous enemy.

"About ready to go then, Colin?"

"Sure. I'm exhausted."

"I call shotgun!"

"Gwaine, you're coming?"

The sergeant smirked. "Elyan ditched me to see some new movie with Perce and Leon."

"Wait. Elyan borrowed Gwen's car," Merlin reasoned, "but Leon has his own car. So whose car did they take?"

"Both," Gwaine said, running his hand through his hair.

"Why?"

Gwen's shoulder brushed Merlin's arm. "El left before them to visit our dad."

"Ah," Merlin breathed.

"Right then, let's get going."

They said short farewells, each giving Guinevere a short hug before heading towards the lift. Merlin felt unease begin to stir in him again. In one hour, he'd be having dinner with Morgana. In one hour, he would know what she knew. In two hours, everything about their modern Camelot might be changed.

* * *

She was already waiting for him when he arrived.

Merlin adjusted his black tie and squared his shoulders, righting his ebony coloured suit and fixing his hair as he walked through the tall glass doors of the Grand Charpe. He took in the room with one long look.

It was lit by dim lights, giving the spacious room a golden glow that complimented the richly decorated wallpaper, which was weaved with golden flowery designs, the beige tiles beneath his feet, and the golden shaded crystal chandeliers that hung sporadically from the high ceiling. The circular tables, varying in size, were clothed with white tablecloths, and a small candle graced the center of each. The room itself was nearly full of people chatting quietly amongst their group as forks and knives cut carefully through food. He spotted the person he was meant to meet in almost the very center of the room, sipping dark red wine from a plain crystal glass.

Merlin refocused his attention towards the things closer to him and sauntered down the short walk to the reservations desk, passing tall structures that held overgrown vines on either side of him.

Once he reached the desk, the man looked up at him with a polite smile on his face. His blue eyes held curiosity and yet boredom at the same time, and he raised his eyebrows as he said, "Hello, sir, how can I help you?"

Merlin shoved his left hand in his pocket, setting the other on the desk before him. "Reservation for two–under 'McGrath.'"

The host looked down at his book, using his pen to scroll down a list of names. "Hm, yes, here it is: McGrath, party of two. Ms. McGrath arrived a few moments ago, Mr. Jones. Is it?" Merlin gave him a short nod, and he glanced down again before setting down his pen and moving out from behind the desk. "Right this way, sir."

The warlock trailed behind him somewhat as he weaved his way past tables and other guests,who were too engaged in their own conversations to pay them any attention, until they reached their appointed destination.

"Ms. McGrath," the waiter said as he approached, "Mr. Jones has arrived."

Morgana stood, and Merlin felt his breath catch momentarily at the sight before him. She wore a tight, sleeveless black dress that was modest yet simple. It went down to her knees and hugged the curves of her lithe body. Her hair, let down, fell in silky ebony waves, and her chiseled-from-the-forest green eyes were better defined by the modest green eyeshadow, light eyeliner, and bright red lipstick that added color to her pallid skin tone.

But Merlin knew, as his breath came back to him, that the flutter in his stomach wasn't from physical attraction but rather from the surprise he felt: she looked so different than the last time Merlin had truly seen her-when she'd been dying below him after he had driven Excalibur through her gut. Then, she'd been dirty, her hair a tangled mat, and her appearance haggard; now, though, she was in such complete contrast to that that it reminded Merlin of a time before she'd even been aware of her powers, when her heart had still been so full of love and conviction in her beliefs, that it made him feel almost nostalgic.

"Colin," she greeted politely as the corner of her mouth curled up into a smirk as she stretched out her hand, "thank you for coming."

Merlin took her small hand in his own, and the warlock shook it briefly before pulling back again. "_Katie_."

Her smirk grew, shadowing her high cheekbones, as amusement lit her eyes. She turned back to the host, "That'll be all, Richard, thank you."

Richard nodded, hands clasped in front of him, and bowed subserviently. He said, "The waiter will be here momentarily, Ms. McGrath."

She nodded, and Richard walked back to the desk before Morgana gestured to the seat across from her at the small table they'd been assigned to. Merlin sat, and Morgana followed his lead before she picked up her wine glass again and took another sip. Merlin watched her through slightly narrowed, curious eyes.

Morgana saw this, and the amused smile grew on her face as she pulled her glass away from her lips. She glanced between him and her wine before saying, "You really should try some of this, Merlin. It's nothing like what we had in Camelot."

As if on cue, the waiter arrived and poured the warlock his own glass, leaving the bottle in a silver bowl that was filled with ice as he gave them their menus. He said he'd be back in a few minutes and then left for another table.

Morgana looked at him curiously, and the warlock took a sip of the wine before nodding with approval. "It is good. What year is it?"

"Nineteen-ninety-one, I believe."

Merlin took another sip and savored the flavor on his tongue. "I think you're right, Morgana."

Morgana smiled and glanced down at her menu, taking in what looked good and what didn't. She saw Merlin doing the same, and said, "Choose whatever. It's on me."

The warlock's ebony eyebrows rose in surprise. "That's very kind of you. Thank you."

She just nodded, looking back at her menu and making her selection just as the waiter came back.

"What can I get for you?" he asked.

Morgana looked up at him; the light catching her eyes and making one almost look blue. "I'll have the Carpaccio please, and as for my friend–" she raised her eyebrows and looked at Merlin questioningly.

"I'll have the steak please."

"Pink, medium rare, or well done, sir?"

"Medium rare."

The waiter nodded and closed his hand-sized notebook. "Your order will be here soon."

They both bobbed their heads in approval, and the waiter moved off towards the they both stirred their wine in their glasses, Merlin watching Morgana the whole time with a small smile as he leaned on the table, face filled with unhidden curiosity. Morgana, already having seen his eagerness, took another sip of her wine before setting the glass down and crossing her arms on the table and leaning over them as the flickering candlelight between them reflected in her emerald eyes.

"I know you've got questions," she purred, leaning back again and crossing her arms over her chest. 'Go on, ask away."

Merlin leaned even further over the table as his blue eyes flashed. "How do you remember when the others don't?"

Her face lit with mild amusement as her thin lips curled into a teasing smile. She leaned forward again and cupped her wine glass in between her forefinger and middle finger. Her piercing eyes became distant and clouded with memories.

"You're a doctor?"

"Yes."

"So you know that a traumatic experience, coupled with a blow to the head, can potentially create amnesia?"

Again, Merlin nodded patiently.

Morgana tapped her finger on the stark tablecloth lightly. "I was twenty-one when it happened," she began. "I was on holiday–a three day trip to Wales, and I… I was driving on a country road when another car came speeding towards me. It was a… blue Chevy–American made–and it was veering all over the road. It all happened so fast…

"But the next thing I knew, we crashed nearly head on. I was belted in, but the impact was enough to knock me out. My last thought was that I was going to die… if I hadn't already. But then I remember waking up in the hospital, and I just… I don't know. I remember, just before opening my eyes, that I compared started to compare that accident to a carriage accident I had with Gorlois, and I remember thinking that that was silly, because that carriage accident _never_ happened to me, that I must be mad because I _never_ did any of these strange things: I never lived in the Middle Ages or rode horses with Uther, and magic isn't real, but then… It all came back in a rush: every memory, every detail, just… everything. I had remembered. All those memories were all tucked safely away in my mind, just screaming to be let loose in my dreams. I know the others dream of it, too, even if they don't remember. But then I had that accident, and instead of_ losing_ my memory..."

"…you became aware," Merlin finished. His eyes were narrowed in thought, as well as in awe of her tale. Could it be through? Merlin's stomach swooped as he remembered that this was still Morgana, the person who'd ultimately killed Arthur by persuading Mordred that she was in the right. It wouldn't be hard to fabricate such a story, but it was believable all the same. He decided to believe her, if only with this, because he had no other explanation for it. "You had the opposite effect."

Morgana nodded and leaned back in her chair as she took another sip from her wine.

"So you've know… all this time?"

She nodded again, her face blank, but Merlin could see a small amount of amusement and sadness there. "I didn't remember it all at once. It's like… the memories are behind closed doors. Some things are beyond my reach, still, but as I explore my own experiences, more doors are opened."

Suddenly the waiter was there to set their plates before them and refill their wine glasses. "Will that be all, madam?"

"Yes," Morgana answered. "Thank you."

He turned on his heel and walked away.

Morgana took her napkin from the table and unfolded it before setting it delicately on her lap, like she'd always done back in Camelot. Merlin picked up his fork and knife, carefully cutting into his steak. Juices flowed out, and Merlin's mouth watered. He lifted his fork and took a bite, chewed, and looked up to find Morgana staring at him with an amused smile. He swallowed hastily, feeling a sudden caution as Morgana's piercing eyes gazed at him thoughtfully.

"What is it?" he asked.

Morgana narrowed her eyes, which were alight with curiosity and question. "You would know though, wouldn't you–about not remembering all at once? I mean, you look dashing for a man your age."

Merlin leaned forward, wariness settling in his eyes even as his stomach stirred with uncertainty. "What do you mean '_my age_?'"

"Well," she simpered, "you must easily be over a thousand years old by now, if I'm correct."

The warlock felt a stab of fear as his unease was concreted, and it took all he had not to flinch at her words. How did she…? "How did you know?" he asked, his voice sharper than he'd meant it to be. He compressed his lips and leaned forward as a few curious heads turned their way, voice quieter but still coming out as a hiss. "I never said anything to you."

"I wasn't sure until now, actually. After I got my memories back, I did some research on 'Arthurian Legends.' Can you believe that they're calling them that? It should be–"

She looked up to see Merlin's hardened blue eyes, and Morgana changed the subject. "Anyway, there were a countless number of versions to go by-–and I was particularly interested in Mary Stewart's rendition of it, with you being a bastard noble and all. That put a twist on it, but still. I suppose authors today just don't have the zest for storytelling as we do, hm? But–-and don't get me wrong–-there were a number of different scenarios for _your_ death, but none of them were… you. I mean, trapped in the Crystal Cave for all eternity?" She scrunched her brow but relaxed it as laughter came into her eyes. "Well, actually, I almost trapped you there for good; maybe that's where that story spawned from-–"

"_Morgana."_

She clicked her tongue before she took a bite of her food. Her black hair fell forward over her shoulder, and she pushed it back behind her ear again. "Fine. I guess I can forgive your impatience...even though I never imagined you as a grumpy old man."

Merlin rolled his eyes as tresses of frustration filtered through his placid mask.

"But like I said-–none of them were you. Trapped in the Crystal Cave...you would have found a way out. You did last time anyway. How'd you do that anyway?"

"My father might have helped," he said shortly.

Morgana's brow rose with surprise, and she was about to inquire further until Merlin's piercing gaze made her stop. Reluctantly dropping the subject, she continued, "And then that story about you being trapped in a tree. Fiction. There's only a small number of trees that you could do that with, and none of them were in the UK back then."

"How do you know if I remained in the UK?"

"Are you saying it's true?"

Merlin leaned back in his chair. "No."

Morgana narrowed her eyes and clucked her tongue again. "Always the man of mystery, aren't we, Merlin?" Merlin gave her a short shrug, and Morgana continued. "But in each case, you were ultimately seduced into your own destruction, which I don't believe would happen." Her nose curled up slightly with disgust. "I actually found myself feeling sorry for you in some of them." Her face relaxed again. "Even if none of them happened."

"How do you know?"

She leaned forward again, taking a small bite of food, swallowing as Merlin did the same, and taking a drink. "Because, Merlin, I know that there was no one after Arthur."

Merlin nearly choked on his wine. "What?"

Morgana grinned wryly. "Not romantically, of course, but… what do they say now? Bromantically? That's not even a proper word-–but anyway: he was your everything, your very reason for living, and having him die… that must have made the rest of your world shatter. You two were always one side of the same coin, and having the other side taken, _smoldered_, if you will, the other side wouldn't last long. It would have broken you, Merlin. To the point where you couldn't love anyone else like you loved him. And it did, didn't it?"

The warlock felt that loneliness again, that loss and despair he'd carried around all these years, pricking at his heart. He pushed it back and looked her straight in the eye before glancing down at his food. "It did. For a while. But time heals all wounds, Morgana–-"

"Not that one though," she challenged. "I can still see the pain in your eyes. Tell me, Merlin, what were his last words?"

That was when the clout of emotion began to block his throat, and he took a drink from his wine to try to clear it. "He," Merlin cleared his voice, ridding it of its hoarseness. However, Morgana had already heard his vulnerability, and she narrowed her eyes as he continued, "He thanked me."

Her mask broke, and anger flashed across her eyes. "Why? Why would he thank you for betraying him?"

"Because I didn't," he added hastily, taking a breath. "I used my magic to aid him, not try and kill him."

She clenched her fist and the flame between them flickered wildly. "If it wasn't for Uther-"

"No. I know what it's like to look for blame," he tried calmly. "I myself tried to justify hiding my magic in fear of Uther, but neither of us knows what he would have done to you. You were like a daughter to him as much as Arthur was a brother to me. Arthur accepted me during his last days; there was no proof that Uther wouldn't have done the same for you."

The rage seemed to subside in her eyes as she put on another mask, and her hand relaxed. Her lips were still held in a thin line, saying that she didn't wholly believe his words, but she wouldn't carry it on.

"You still haven't told me how you knew."

Morgana's eyes flashed to him, and she took another drink. "About what?"

Merlin took a bite of his steak. "How you knew I never died."

"Oh, well, I didn't believe any of the 'legends,' and some of the things in history just have your name written all over them–just things that it seems would happen with you around, so I guessed."

"And I just confirmed it?"

"Precisely."

Morgana cut into her meat again. "So tell me… How did the rest of them pass?"

A small pain cut through Merlin's crystal blue eyes and he ran a hand against his ebony hair before hiding it. "Well, Mordred, you know, died at Arthur's hand and Arthur at Mordred's in turn. You died at my hand-–"

"Yes, and I love that that was the only part of the legend they actually stayed true to. Thanks," she said, a half-sneer, half-laugh on her face. She leaned forward and refilled each of their wine glasses again.

"Well, there was that bit about Mab, but I met her once, and she was no bigger than a thimble. But anyway, after I buried Arthur at Lake Avalon, I returned to Camelot soon afterwards and confirmed Arthur's death. Everyone was heartbroken, of course, but after such a narrow victory, they had to remain strong. Two years after that, Gaius was taken by a fever that had taken one third of Camelot's citizens. A year later, Leon was killed in battle, Percival the same. Both died honorably, and we buried all three in Avalon as well," Merlin said soberly.

"We?" Morgana asked softly.

Merlin took another drink and felt a small amount of warmth filter through his body from the rich alcohol. "Gwen and I. We were the only two left."

Morgana leaned forward, genuine intrigue written on her face. "So what happened?"

"She died–-only a few years later. Poison."

"And you couldn't-–"

He shook his head, already having anticipated her words. "No. The poison was too potent… I made it so she didn't suffer though. Pain suppressant. It was the least I could do."

Morgana nodded soberly, brow pinched in the old way when she would express concern. "And did you find the person who poisoned her?"

Merlin nodded, anger flashing through his multifaceted eyes.

"And?"

He turned his fire blue eyes on Morgana, startling her. "He got what he deserved."

Morgana eyed him warily, a new respect lighting her green eyes as she searched his face. "I'm sure. What happened then?"

Merlin averted his gaze and ate more of his meal. "I left Camelot."

"Really? I didn't think you'd be able to."

"It wasn't hard really. There was nothing keeping me there anymore. Everyone I loved was gone, and all it held were heartbroken memories of a shattered past. It was too painful," he said, surprising himself with his own honesty. "So I traveled around the world."

"Sounds like fun," Morgana quipped. "I've been to the UK, America, and Paris once. That's it."

Merlin clicked his tongue. "You're missing all the culture… You should have seen Paris when they were still building the Eiffel Tower or London when they built Big Ben. It was beautiful, and it was so… alive, I guess."

Morgana smirked and spoke with amusement highlighting her voice. "It sounds nice."

The warlock smiled, letting his guard consciously slip just a little. "It was."

Then, there a moment of silence as the waiter came to collect empty dishes and retrieve payment before leaving them alone again. It was a few moments before Merlin spoke again, this time with his guard back up and a mask on his face. "So, what've you been up to since you've regained your memories? I imagine you still have your magic?"

She nodded, smiling pleasantly as she dabbed at her face with her napkin. "Yes, as I imagine you still have yours after all these years. And as for what I've been up to, that's my business, Merlin."

Merlin grabbed his crystal wine glass in between his forefinger and middle finger, twirling his wine along the bottom of it as he glanced between it and Morgana. "But, what you do that puts my friends in danger," he said, his tone low and lined with an unspoken threat, "becomes my business."

Morgana looked at him with searching, narrow green eyes, and a small smile pulled at the corners of her ruby red lips before her face relaxed again. Her eyes, though, still held traces of resentment and amusement. She leaned forward, folding her arms in front of her and staring deep into Merlin's hardened eyes. "Let me just tell you this, for old times' sake, hm? You-_Arthur_, his _team_–you're all looking in the wrong direction with this case."

"What do you mean, Morgana?"

She opened her mouth to speak just as her purse, which she had set on the edge of the table after paying for dinner, made a vibrating sound. Distracted, she unzipped her purse and took out her touchscreen phone, reading whatever it held there. Keeping a placid mask on, she turned back to Merlin and returned her phone to her purse.

"I'm afraid I have to go. I'm sorry we have to cut our little chat short, but I had fun," she smiled. She stood, and Merlin stood with politely with her. Both looked at each other with their own amount of rebellion, questioning, and, in Morgana's case, amusement. "I'll see you around_, _Merlin."

"Morgana," he nodded in farewell. She nodded back and walked past him towards the coat room at the other end of the hall. Merlin sat down once more and pulled at the sleeves of his black suit jacket and finished his red wine in a single swig, mind churning with what could possibly happen next.

Sighing, he stood and walked outside, shivering in the cold night air, and hailed a taxi to take him home.

* * *

Okay, just take a moment to breath, guys. Breathing is good.

I really enjoyed writing this. Who wouldn't love to write a dinner scene with Merlin and Morgana silently hashing it out while talking things over. Also, we got to see a side of Merlin that I haven't presented before. :D I hope you liked how I portrayed everything-it was kind of tough to figure out how to time everything. Morgana's reverse amnesia thing, by the way, is real. More or less. I know for a fact that I got that idea from somewhere... But I can't remember where. It was probably Star Trek: TNG, knowing me. :D And there's plenty more to come, believe me.

Well anyway, I'm off to write some Rise of the Guardians. ;) See you all later.

Goodnight! Dream of Jack Frost tonight.


	12. Holding On

Disclaimer: IDOM

Hello, dearhearts! How's it going? :) Anyway, this chapter, guys... If you don't already hate me, you will now. I don't want to hold you up too much. A quick note, though, I pulled the title from two songs: Simple Plan's "Holding On" and Ross Copperman's "Holding On And Letting Go" I highly recommend both songs. They're amazing. :) So...

Enjoy:

* * *

**Chapter 12: Holding On**

* * *

Stepping out of her cab, Gwen leaned in the passenger side window, handed the driver a few bills, and thanked him for the ride. He drove away a second later, and she narrowed her eyes and huddled further into her coat as she looked around. Street lamps marred the side of the road, and spots of light crawled up the regal apartment building. A couple, holding a pulling dog, walked past her, arm in arm.

But as they walked past, Guinevere noticed something glinting on the sidewalk near the building. Her brow furrowed, and curious, she readjusted the purse on her arm as she leaned forward to try and see what it was...

...and something was pressed against the small of her back. Fear instantly raced through her, and her breath hitched.

"Right," a stranger's voice said. "Up. Slowly." Gwen did as she was told, eyes wide with fear as her breath caught in her throat. "Now take a few steps forward."

The alleyway. He wanted her to go in the dark, barren alleyway.

"I-"

"_Now."_

She jumped at the intensity of his voice, and her heart pounded with fear in her chest. What was she supposed to do? There was no one around. What if she just screamed? Would that help? But what did the man have in his hand: a knife or a gun? Should she take the chance?

"That's right," he said. Gwen could hear the smile in his voice. "Just act natural."

Anger flared in her chest at his tone, and she grit her teeth. "Thanks," she spat vehemently, "but I don't need praise or lessons from _you_." Guinevere let out a small yelp as her attacker pressed his weapon harder against her back. A knife, definitely a knife.

"Don't make this any harder than it needs to be, darling," he warned.

She released a sharp breath through her nose, anger overpowering her fear as she whipped around, purse clutched between her hands, and hit her attacker hard on the side of the head. He yelled in pain, backing away and grabbing his head, and Gwen regained her bearings, trying to run past him, but he lunged towards her.

She let out a startled scream as the attacker shoved her roughly against the wall. Her head hit the hard brick, and her vision swam. Her breaths came quickly, and her chest heaved with the sharp intakes of air. She blinked...

...And suddenly the attacker was yelling as he was thrown backwards in the air. The purse fell from her hand, contents crashing into the ground in surprise as the man landed roughly on the pavement, head resounding with a sharp crack until his body went limp. Though, by the way his chest still moved, the back of Guinevere's mind knew that he was still alive, just unconscious.

_"He's still alive, Gwen, just unconscious." _

Her vision whipped to the other end of the alleyway, where Colin... Colin-Merlin-_Colin_ stood, arms extended and honey gold fading back into his sapphire blue eyes. His face was hardened in protective defiance, and his body was tense.

There was almost an aura of power around him. The air itself seemed to vibrate with a foreign power that Gwen somehow knew-_knew_-had always been there, hidden within the folds of her life. But now... it felt like it was everywhere: it made the air feel warm, it sent a small breeze to ruffle her hair, and, more importantly, it invaded the deepest recesses of her mind, pushing and pulling at distant memories and trying to break them free.

_"The sorcerer from the battle. You knew him?"_

_ "Yes."_

_ "Do I...? Please, Gaius, answer me honestly." _

_ "...Yes." _

She blinked, trying to clear her head as pressure built inside it, creating a sharp, throbbing headache that pounded against her temples. A hiss of pain escaped her lips, and, closing her eyes, she started to slide towards the ground, but suddenly Merlin-_Colin_-was there, helping her stand as she leaned towards him. She wrapped her arm around her stomach, feeling as though she might be sick, and Merlin put a stabling hand on her shoulder, using his other hand to raise her chin. He was in a suit. A suit. Col-Merlin. A suit. He looked fine in that suit, if Guinevere was being honest with herself, but this was Col-Merlin. Merlin didn't wear suits. He hated to even wear royal wear. Why was he wearing a suit?

Colin's-_Merlin's_-voice was distant at best. "Gwen? Gwen? Are you alright? Are you hurt? _Guinevere?"_

_ "Gwen, let me see your wrist." _

_ "It's not that bad. It was only a few days." _

_ "Yes, a few days in the _cells_ with those godforsaken irons chafing your skin. I swear, if Uther wasn't king-" _

She heard laughing. _"Merlin!" _

_ "Merlin,"_ she gasped, trembling as another bout of nausea ran through her. The warlock froze, eyes wide and shocked as a new light filtered into Guinevere's chocolate brown orbs. "You, you..."

_"You have magic." _

_ "Yes, my lady." _Here, his usually strong voice was shaking.

And hers: compassionate and frail and speckled with sad remorse. Both for the loss of her husband and for her broken friend. _"Merlin, my name is Guinevere. My friends call me 'Gwen', and you are my _best _friend. Don't ever think otherwise." _

"You... Colin-_Merlin_... _magic." _

The man flinched and took a step backwards, his eyes flooding with surprise and cautious hope. Gwen, mind twisting and churning with returning memories, thought he had taken it the wrong way.

"No, I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't-"

She tried to walk forward towards him, but a sudden rush of nausea crashed down on her, and her vision twisted and blurred. Her eyelids dropped, and she felt herself sway, the pavement rushing to meet her as she got the strange sense of floating on air.

But Merlin caught her first, and his soft ebony hair, deep blue eyes, and familiar, worried frown, were the last things she saw before darkness took her completely.

* * *

_Moonlight broke against the chipped flagstones of the courtyard, scattering shadows like crumbs amongst the stones. Gwen sat on the final step of the stairs that opened to the empty courtyard, Leon and Percival sitting on either side of her in silent support. It had been a few days since the announcement of Arthur's passing and her becoming Camelot's sole monarch, yet it still pressed on her like a weight against her chest. And the only person who she thought could help still hadn't come yet. _

_ In the days since Gaius' arrival back in Camelot, there had been neither hide nor hair of the brave warlock that Gwen was proud to call her best friend. Gaius had suggested that maybe he too needed time to recover from his king's death, explaining in sparse detail about their connection and how deeply it would affect him, but Guinevere knew that he was trying to convince himself as much as he was her. _

_It wasn't fair, really. Arthur had only ruled his kingdom for five years_-_five prosperous years_-_before his life was taken, leaving Gwen, who had only three years experience ruling beside Arthur, to run the kingdom in his absence. _

_ And so much had changed in those few days. _

_Gwaine's death weighed her down, as well. He had always been beside her, first flirting with her in that charming way he had about him with his rugged hair and dreamy smile, then protecting her as a friend during Morgana's brief reign, and eventually protecting her as knight and friend, supporting her in her decisions. He was Arthur's best swordsmen and one of her brothers. Another one she'd lost. _

_But not Merlin. He had to be out there somewhere, alive and well. He had to be. Because she couldn't bear to lose him too._

* * *

She fidgeted in her sleep, feeling a warm hand against her temple and a stabling grip on her arm. Her brown hair fell against her cheek, and the careful hand moved to push it out of her face, sliding alongside her cheekbone and making her shiver as she exhaled.

"It's me, Gwen. It's just me."

* * *

_It took another two days for him to come home, riding some horse he'd found__,__ because it wasn't Arthur's, nor was it his own. His eyes were dark and his heart heavy. That carefree, adoring smile was missing as well, but that was okay. Gwen understood. _

_ She ran to meet him in the courtyard, arriving just as he was dismounting his horse. Percival was there, Leon too, greeting him with relieved smiles on their faces. And she finally saw a grin pull on Merlin's full lips. But she didn't care. She didn't care about the fact that it was the first smile she'd seen in _weeks_ from him, or about the light, though small, that entered his eyes at the sight of his friends, Gwen only cared that he was _there._ She ran right up to her friend and leapt into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and pulling him close to her. She felt his arms slowly move around her, as if hesitantly, before he was hugging her just as tightly. _

_ "God, Merlin, don't you ever scare me like that again," she commanded, voice breaking with pure relief. "Never again." _

_His chuckle, light against her ear, was the best sound in the world, and immediately, a wave of peace rolled over her, and they both tightened their arms around the other. "I'll do my best."_

* * *

"-lin," she whispered in her sleep. There was no answer this time, but she felt the blankets being pulled up to her chin by someone who smelled of books and... What was that? So familiar. But…

The ticking of a clock phased in and out of her hearing, confusing her as her fingers curled unconsciously around the lavender bedspread. Her legs shifted, and she turned onto her stomach, arm curling around her pillow and pulling it closer as she took in a ragged breath.

* * *

_ Her arm wrapped underneath his as they walked the corridor together. The hallway was bright with the light colored stones__,__ reflectin__g the orange sunlight that forced itself through the windows and sending sudden but soft shadows in the nooks and corners. Purple dappled the east, blue fringing the clouds. It would be nightfall soon._

_ Merlin's midnight blue cloak nearly brushed the floor, and Guinevere prided herself for its length. It was just right. Camelot's golden insignia brushed against her shoulder, and she smiled. "You were brilliant in there, you know that?"_

_ "All I did was kneel on the floor, Gwen," he replied, grinning as he glanced down at her. _

_ She laughed. "Well__,__ you had an easy job then, didn't you, Court Sorcerer?"_

_ The warlock ducked his head, blushing at the title. After a moment of peaceful silence, he set his spare hand atop Gwen's arm. "Seriously though, Gwen," he started, voice low and full of sincerity, "thank you. For everything you've done." _

_ She stopped, smiling at the floor before Merlin turned to fully face her. She looked up, pride and affection dancing in her eyes. Gwen clasped her best friend's hands in hers and looked deep into his eyes. "It was destiny. Merlin, I don't know if you've realized it, but your destiny, one part of it at least, has been fulfilled." Confusion lit his misty orbs, and Guinevere pressed on. "Magic has been returned to Camelot... By your and Arthur's hands." _

_ "What? How?" _

_"If it had not been for Arthur making me his queen, or your convincing me that magic isn't evil, we would not be here today freeing magic or putting you in the position of Court Sorcerer. Even though our king isn't here to share this moment with us, it was still ultimately done by his hand, Merlin. And yours."_

_ By now, enough liquid had built atop Merlin's lid that a solitary tear made its way down his cheek. He swallowed thickly. "Thank you, Gwen."_

* * *

"How is she?"

Guinevere shifted again, gripping the blankets as something cool was pressed against her forehead. The voices, familiar but indistinct and hushed, continued.

"She's okay. Just a bit of a fright, I think. I would like to watch over her today, though, just to be sure."

"Of course. Just take care of her."

"I will. I promise. Now go back to bed, you prat."

"Are you sure there's nothing else I can do?"

There was a small laugh. "Arthur, trust me, I'm a physician, aren't I? She'll be alright. She just needs a few hours rest."

* * *

_The age-old door of the west tower creaked open as Guinevere poked her head through. Immediately, smells wafted around her, tickling her nose, and she took a deep breath in. _

_ "Gwen! Hello!" _

_ She giggled and walked further into the room, her face quickly melting into awe at the dozens of books rearranging themselves on the bookcase. "Erm, Merlin?" _

_ The warlock looked slightly confused before following her line of sight and letting out a laugh. "They're fine." _

_ "Uh, alright? And how about that pot that's boiling over?" _

_ "What?" he asked, looking around. His face lit with a sudden fear as he spotted the pot she was talking about, and his eyes flashed before the pot rose in midair and away from the flame. _

_ Smirking, she sat down on the bench beside him. "That is most definitely cheating, warlock." _

_ His grin widened at the nickname she'd given him, and his eyes danced with mirth. "Well, do you _want_ dinner burnt?"_

_ "No!" she laughed, bumping his shoulder as he closed a book before him. _

_ He chuckled lightly and pushed the book away, folding his arms on the table in front of him and resting his chin on them. "Good. Perce and Leon should be here in a few moments, and I," he yawned loudly, "am utterly exhausted." _

_ Guinevere gave him a tender smile. "I should think so considering how much work you've loaded yourself down with."_

_ "It helps me keep my mind off of... you know." _

_ And she did know. Merlin, she had learned, had always been like that. After something tragic happened, he would load himself down with work to help him push the memories away. She touched his forearm lightly with her hand__and said softly, "Why don't you get some rest, Merlin." _

_ "But-" _

_ "No," she grinned with amusement. "You need a few hours of rest. Go, I'll deal with the knights this time. Alright?" _

_ His glazed eyes turned to her, and he gave her a small smile. "Alright. Thanks, Gwen." _

_ "Of course." She stood with him and wrapped him in a hug, giving his cheek a light kiss before pulling back and plucking something off the table. "This is the one, right?" Guinevere could see the pain beneath his eyes. Yes, it was. The tonic for his nightmares. She winced. "Sorry." _

_ Offering her a placating smile, he took it from her hand and kissed her forehead. "It's alright, Gwen. I'll see you in the morning, yeah? Bright and early." _

_ She smirked as he walked away, and when he was out of earshot, she whispered lovingly, "Goodnight, my warlock."_

* * *

Gwen turned over again, feeling an ache in her chest as she brought her knees up further and frowned.

Warlock.

Her warlock.

Her Merlin…

* * *

_Ragged breathing. Harsh. Laboured. "Gwen. Gwen, listen to me. I hav-Eh!" A scream. Blood spotted on her hands._

_ "Merlin! What's happening? Please!" _

_ Sweat glistened on his pores, and he gripped her arm tightly, eyes wild and pained and underlined with a dull gold. "I haven't been... completely honest about my powers. I'm dying-" _

_ "No." She shook her head wildly, desperately. "You can't be!" _

_ Her father, Lancelot, Elyan, Gwaine, Arthur, Gaius, Percival, Leon. They were all gone. She couldn't lose Merlin too. She couldn't. _

_ "Guinevere, _please,_ my body-" he ground his teeth "-it's going to heal itself. I'll be fine, but, but-" _

_ "But _what_?" _

_ "It-it's going-ah!-to hurt." Suddenly, his eyes grew frightened and more scared than Gwen had ever seen them. "Gwen, please don't leave me." _

_ And he screamed again._

* * *

There was some shuffling in the room, and Gwen felt the blankets being adjusted again as a hand moved delicately on her forehead.

"Gwen? Guinevere, can you hear me? It's... Colin." The voice, unsure and quiet, was holding back deeper emotion. "Well, actually, it's Merlin. But..." He paused. "I don't even know if you can hear me," he sighed. Another pause. "But it's Merlin, Gwen. It's _me._ I'm _here. _I'm really here. Please, remember me... _Please_, Gwen..._"_

Her Merlin...

* * *

_"Merlin?" _

_ It was coming. It was time. _

_ Watery eyes looked down on her. A face as fresh as the day she'd first seen it frowned down at her, and a tear fell on the bedspread. "Yes?" _

_ "Promise me..." Her voice was ragged, breathing labored and thoughts fuzzy from the poison, but she felt no pain. Merlin, she was sure, had seen to that. She felt a rush of affection towards him as she swallowed thickly. "Promise me you'll keep yourself safe. Not even you can bear this alone, Merlin."_

_ "I'll be alright," he offered weakly. His hand gripped her own_,_ and she could see the unspoken agony in his eyes. He was trying so hard to be strong. So very hard._

_ But she knew he wouldn't. They didn't know how long he'd have to wait for them. It could be years, it could be decades, it could be a century. And he would be on his own. _

_She could only pray that Destiny would be merciful. _

_ Because after everything he had been forced to live through, he didn't deserve this curse in the first place. _

_ "I'm sorry, Merlin." _

_ "No," he said suddenly, putting his hand on the side of her face and leaning forward, passion in his voice. "You have _nothing _to be sorry for, Gwen." _

_ She could feel herself fading. Merlin's voice, with every word, was becoming more muffled, and a torrent of tears pressed against both their eyes, a sad, accepting chocolate, and a tumultuous, frightened azure. The young queen squeezed her friend's hand with waning strength. "I'll see you soon, warlock. Thank you..." _

_ "Gwen? Gwen?" She felt her hand slip from his as her vision went dark and felt his hot breath against her skin, even as his voice sounded miles off. "Gwen!_ Guinevere!" _The last thing she heard was a loud, heart-wrenching sob._

* * *

So... do I need to go hide? :D

Another quick note: Last Tuesday, Fanfiction was kind of spazzing, so I'm not too sure about how many people actually got the update. I received a lot less reviews than I normally do, and I usually get an email saying I updated. I didn't. So I hope all who're following get this. :) More next week, I promise. It's just getting good, and I love the following chapters.

Goodnight. Dream of Jack Frost tonight. ;)


	13. Little Wonders

Disclaimer: IDOM

Okay, so firstly, sorry about no update last week, guys. Really. If you didn't see the post in my "Announcements" my beta and I became really caught up in real life. It's (apparently) a needed thing. She needs it to graduate college, and I need it to graduate high school. :P Anyway, really sorry, guys. I hope it doesn't happen again, but I can't promise anything. *hugs to all*

I hope this makes up for it! I did want to mention, though, that there were a few of you who thought that Merlin and Gwen had had a romantic relationship after Arthur's death... And, in answer to that, no they didn't. I can only see Merlin and Gwen being in a brother/sister relationship. No more. No less.

Anyway, enjoy! :)

* * *

**Chapter 13: Little Wonders**

* * *

Sunlight poked through the closed curtain, a single ray cutting across Guinevere's blanketed legs and making her room just a little brighter. Slowly, consciousness came to her, and she inhaled through her nose sharply, the fresh air of the morning refreshing her as she rubbed a hand across her face. Her mouth stretched in a yawn before she smiled and opened her eyes. Quickly, though, her eyes widened in shock at her surroundings.

She was in her apartment, in her own bed, surrounded by her own things, but this wasn't Camelot. This was... this was... the_ future. _And she... she was a secretary at the New Scotland Yard. And Arthur was there, and her brother, and Leon, and Percival, and... Gwaine. They were all... but they_ had _all... Even she had...

...And Merlin.

She'd been attacked, and he had saved her. With his magic. With his wonderful gifts. He-he was... He was here. He had _lived_. Her warlock was _here! _

She remembered.

_"Merlin!"_

Everything that had happened in the last few months, everything that had transgressed: their meeting, Merlin working beside Arthur -her _husband_- and the others... they had all been threads in Destiny's hands, slowly being woven together for a second time. Everything made sense now. Everything.

Her memories pounded in her head and heart, pushing and pulling her emotions and thoughts in thousands of directions, and her breath escaped in short, nearly giddy gasps. There were so many answers, but twice as many questions, and Merlin -everything revolved around her warlock.

She remembered his soft, dark hair, blithe, dancing eyes, and a sweet smile that could make serving girls swoon with one glance. She remembered his charm and character, his beloved neckerchief and hand sewn jacket. And he... he...

"Merlin!"

It only took a few seconds and he was there, standing in the doorway with a look of alarm and protectiveness in the depths of his eyes. His hair stood up in tufts from where he'd ran his hand through it anxiously, and his clothing, plaid pj pants and a grey tee, was wrinkled and creased like he'd had a restless night. But he was there. He was _here._

Tears flooded her eyes, and in another second, he was sitting in front of her on the bed, wrapping his long arms around her and pushing her head into his shoulder comfortingly. It felt so natural, and Guinevere melted in his hold, bring her arms around and grabbing his tee shirt with her fists. "It's okay, Gwen, I'm here. It's me."

She let out a sob and hugged him tighter, like a young child would her father after waking up from a nightmare. Her mind recalled each movement, each action of this life: she had forgotten about everything-her friends, her family, her destiny, even her _death_-she was a _secretary_, and _Merlin..._

She knew about his magic's ability to heal him; he had been _alive_ all this time. Alone.

Guinevere wept into his shoulder again, and the warlock stroked her hair, whispering into her ear again. A sudden thought flashed through her mind, and, God, _had he ever had children?_

A new wave of tears hit her, and it took a few more minutes for her to settle down enough to speak. She pulled back, carefully putting her hand on Merlin's face and caressing his cheek. "Oh, God, it's you, Merlin. It's you. Thank goodness."

The warlock smiled through his own tears, and the pure relief and brotherly love in his eyes was enough to bring fresh tears to Gwen's eyes. Her thumb rubbed his cheekbone as his full lips parted with breathless laughter. "Of course it's me, Gwen. It's always been me." There was a moment of blessed silence before, quietly and in a thick voice, Merlin said, "I'm so glad you're back." His voice, its depth, betrayed the pain he was hiding-was _always_ hiding-and Guinevere pulled him back into a tight hug.

"Oh, Merlin, I'm so sorry." She stroked the back of his head as he cried softly into her shoulder, and Gwen wondered when it was that he last allowed someone to properly comfort him. "It's alright now. I'm here. We're all here, even if the others don't remember yet." His arms tightened around her, and she could feel hot tears against her skin. "Merlin?" He slowly pulled back to face her, smiling softly as his fingers rubbed bits of her hair between them. "Can I ask you a question?"

He sniffed, smile widening with lighthearted humor as another tear fell from his eye. "Of course. Anything, Gwen, anything."

She brushed Merlin's hair back from his face, drinking in every feature with a new appreciation. He still looked the same, thank God. "How... how old are you, Merlin?"

The warlock's face ducked a bit as a cavern opened up in his eyes. His hand dropped from her arm, and he carefully threaded his fingers around her free hand. Lifting it, he rubbed her fingers between his like he used to whenever they would cramp after long hours of sifting through the paperwork in Camelot. Or when he was debating on what exactly to reveal to her.

"Merlin, please," she said, almost beseechingly. She only wished for him to know that he didn't have to bear this alone. Not anymore.

His soft eyes rose to meet hers, and with a small smile pulling on his lips, he answered in a voice thick with emotion, "Fifteen hundred and twenty seven."

_Fifteen hundred... _It had been exactly fifteen hundred years since...

She pulled him back into a firm hug, hand caressing the nape of his neck. There were no more tears to fall, but they both needed the connection. The brother and sister relationship that they'd held back in Camelot was still there, and it always would be. "I'm sorry. You weren't meant to wait that long."

Merlin hugged her back, smirking into her hair. "It's alright, Guinevere. It was Destiny's choice; it wasn't your fault."

"But, Merlin-"

He pulled back, putting his hands on her shoulders. "And seeing you, Arthur, Gwaine... _everyone_-seeing everyone again... and you _remembering_-it... It makes it all worth it."

And seeing the hope in his eyes, the joy, Gwen knew that even though there would always be things that hurt him-things in his past that they may never know about, things that, no matter what, would always be there as a reminder, and things that no matter how hard he tried, would never go away-he was telling the truth. The absolute truth.

So she smiled through her tears and nodded happily. "The others will remember too. I'm sure of it."

"In time," he answered with a watery grin.

"Can't you... I don't know... Help them?"

The warlock shook his head. "I don't know what I'm dealing with. If I try anything, they might be gone forever."

Gwen's brow pinched. "But with me..."

He nodded, understanding. "I think it was because you were the last one to..." He glanced away, something dark and full of sorrow flashing in his eyes as he audibly swallowed. "You were closer than the others-to the surface, I mean. How are you feeling anyway? You had a fever."

Acknowledging his change in subject, Gwen squeezed his hand. "A bit of a headache, but otherwise I feel fine."

"Just a sec," Merlin grinned, hopping up from the bed and jogging out of the room. Guinevere felt her smile grow and warmth spread through her chest as she remembered Merlin running through the brightly lit corridors of Camelot. Even after Arthur had passed, the warlock had always had a bright, eager spirit. It was what always helped her to persevere. If Merlin Emrys, whose life was filled with such agony, such loss, could still plaster a smile on his handsome face, then so could she.

He came back a moment later with a traditional ibuprofen bottle in his hand and handed her two pills. "This might help a little."

Gwen smiled at him gratefully and downed them with a sip of water.

"Are you hungry?"

Laughing a little at the eagerness in his voice, she gave him a small nod. "A little."

Merlin's grin only broadened, and he extended his arm. "Wonderful. I'll make us some lunch."

"Lunch?" she questioned, taking his hand and climbing off the bed.

"It's nearly noon, Gwen. Oh, careful." He grabbed her elbow to help steady her as her hand went to her head and she stood on wobbly knees. Peering into her face, he frowned and asked with concern, "Are you alright?"

She bobbed her head again. "Yes, I'm-I'm fine, really. Just... a bit of nausea is all."

A soft smile appeared on his face, and he put his hand on her arm. "It's probably the memories," he reassured. "Your body isn't used to the magic, especially not the rush of it just had."

"Magic?"

"What else do you think was keeping your memories suppressed?"

She hadn't thought about that. But, in truth, it did make sense. Of course it did. Her- _their_, actually-whole lives revolved around magic. Gwen nodded at him and swallowed, letting her hand fall from her temple as she grasped his arm.

"Would you rather stay in bed?" he asked.

"No," was her immediate reply. She didn't want him out of her sight. After everything he must have endured, she didn't want him ever to feel that he was alone again. Especially after all the care he took to make sure they never felt that way. "No, I'll be okay."

Merlin gave her a small grin. "Alright,_ Gwennie,_" he teased. "Let's get you to the sofa, then, yeah? I'll make something to eat, and we can talk."

She looked into his eyes, his beautiful, clear, crystalline eyes, and smiled, nodding vigorously.

* * *

"So how did you get this job at Scotland Yard, anyhow?" the former queen questioned, sitting, not on the couch, but on a barstool by the raised countertop across from Merlin, who stood in front of the stove trying, and failing, to make pancakes.

The warlock grinned at her and poked the bubbling liquid. "John got me the job, actually."

Her brow furrowed, and her fingers curled around the hot cup of tea Merlin had prepared for her. "Arthur told me that you two have been friends for a long time? How does that work?"

"John and I met during the Korean War in the fifties. I was an army doctor working for the UN in a MASH unit, and he came in wounded."

Guinevere smiled softly at him, eyes hiding sadness that Merlin had been involved in the war at all. "Sounds like you. But, so... I assume he knows, then? About you, I mean-with your..."

Releasing a fond, laughing breath, Merlin's grin widened, and he attempted to flip the blob on the pan. "Yes, he knows. About the magic and the not-aging bit, but not much else, and not about you. Him and a few other people."

"Others?"

He nodded. "We were ambushed during the war after a bug-out. That's, um, where, if there's a threat of an attack, we move the camp to a safer location," the warlock explained. "John, his unit, and I were all riding in the same jeep, and a bomb blew out our tire. We were separated from the main unit and had to find our own way. And... I used my magic to protect them all. I was just so... tired of it all."

If Merlin had been any closer, Gwen would have folded her hand around his, but she settled for a calm, tender look, and said, "It's alright, Merlin. You did the right thing."

He gave her a small smile, eyes showing only a sliver of the pain inside. "Thanks. It's... good, great really, to hear you say that. I... I didn't know if I ever would again."

And her heart completely shattered for him.

"I'm really, really glad you're back, Gwen."

This time, she did climb off her stool and walk around the counter before enveloping him in a fierce hug. He embraced her just as tightly, his body only giving away a small amount of emotion in the form of trembling.

"Me too, Merlin," she said, hearing him give a small sigh of ecstasy at just the sound of his true name. "Me too."

He pulled away, and she saw how his eyes were glazed over the slightest bit. Gwen suddenly realized that he must have been up all night watching over her as she regained her memories. Raising her hand, she cupped the side of his face and stroked his cheekbone. "You need some rest."

Merlin let out a laughing breath and nodded as Gwen let her hand fall from his cheek. "I'm sure I do... but not now."

And she understood that, as much as she didn't want him out of her sight, he didn't want her out of his. They had been the first two in Camelot to become friends after Merlin's arrival, and they were the two who'd been left behind after everyone had passed. They had a bond stronger than destiny itself because they'd been fighting it all their lives. A bond unbreakable, even through time and trials and hardships.

"Alright," she replied. "But soon." He answered with a small nod, and suddenly, she put her hand on his arm. "Um, Merlin, your... your pancake, it's-"

Turning around, the warlock jumped to remove the pan from the heat as the burnt mass on the pan hissed, and Gwen laughed. "I can cook_ anything_, except pancakes. Why can't I cook pancakes?"

Guinevere only gigged again at his amused expression.

"I hope you like cereal."

"Well considering we're in my apartment, and it's my cereal, I should hope I like it."

"Touche."

So as Merlin grabbed the milk out of the refrigerator, Guinevere grabbed the cereal out of the cabinet. They both sat down at the counter, shoulders brushing as they prepared their meal. They talked about nothing, which, to them, was everything. As long as the other was near them, and they could hear the affection and jest and teasings in their voice, everything was perfect. They laughed and giggled and chuckled and chortled, but, inevitably, it turned towards a more serious, more sober, conversation.

Guinevere's hand brushed his. "Does Morgana remember?"

"Um..." The warlock set his spoon down in his bowl, watching the ripples spread. "Yeah. Yeah, she remembers."

"How?"

Merlin threw her a smirk, remembering something Arthur had said off hand. "She said that she remembered after a car accident in-"

"Wales"

"You know about it?"

Gwen sighed. "Everyone knew about it. Well, everyone close to her. That accident nearly killed her, but if she remembered... Why didn't she say anything? In Camelot, she was so... Why didn't she...?"

"Try to kill you?"

"For lack of better words," Gwen breathed. "I mean, that was years ago..."

Merlin nodded. "I think... she didn't see any reason to tell you. She could create a whole new identity with no guarantee that you would ever remember."

"But what about you? Surely she would have known you would come."

"No, I don't think so," Merlin said. "Morgana didn't know the whole truth about my destiny, and I hadn't shown up after all those years, so why should I now? It was by chance, or destiny, Gwen, that I became partners with Arthur at all."

A smile suddenly spread out on her face. "Partners. I like that. You're finally his equal."

A blush crawled up Merlin's neck, and he grinned. "It does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

Gwen bumped him with her shoulder, eyes dancing. "Yes, it does. Now, I have another question, warlock." Merlin's eyebrows rose in amusement and consent, and she continued, "Why were you wearing a suit last night? And, thank you for that, really. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't come along."

"You're welcome, Gwen," he answered, brushing her hand. "Arthur arrested him, you know. Oh, you should have seen him when I told the guys what he did. He was furious! I, personally, thought his reaction was hilarious, but you know Leon, all diplomatic. He stepped in and tried to calm the prat down."

"So Leon knows too?"

He laughed. "Gwen, everyone knows. Seriously, your brother-I swear, it was like a match to see who was more mad at the guy. I think that if they weren't all cops, they would have all torn that guy apart."

Guinevere grinned, comforted. "Well it's good to know they care. Now, Merlin, the suit. Why were you wearing a suit?"

"Uh... I had a dinner date."

"A _date?_" she giggled. "Merlin, whoever she is, I think you're a bit old for her, don't you think?"

The frown his lips had pulled themselves into broke at her jab, and he rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Gwen, that's all I need to hear. And... Well... Actually, it was with Morgana."

"_What?" _

"It wasn't an actual _date _date... We were just catching up, and that's how I found out how she remembered. And then she had questions about me, ones that she wouldn't be able to ask with you guys around."

"Ah," Gwen breathed. "But... she didn't try to... hurt you or anything? I mean, Merlin, this is Morgana."

"No," he soothed. "She didn't try to kill me. She... she actually already knew that I hadn't died. She'd guessed and then did some research and decided that all the deaths in the legends just weren't... in character."

"Well..."

"Really, Gwen, you too?"

"Now that I think about it..."

Merlin pursed his lips and sighed, smirking. "Anyway, she's tied to the case Arthur and I were assigned to... somehow. She said we were looking in the wrong direction, but... I don't know. Do you think she's behind the murder? The coroner said that there were no marks on the body, so I assume it's magic, but that doesn't mean it has to be her."

The former queen's brow scrunched. "There are more magic users here? I thought that... Well... there's never been anything..."

"Yeah, there has," Merlin disagreed. "All those little unexplained house fires, or little 'miracles' when someone who should have died didn't. Magic is still around, Gwen, just less... advertised. I mean, in this world, if someone found out about me and my magic, they might try to take advantage of it. Or worse."

"Merlin, has everyone ever..."

The warlock smiled softly at her. "Nothing I couldn't handle, Gwen. I'm alright."

Guinevere nestled her head against Merlin's shoulder, and he put his arm around her. "You know that you can always talk to me, right? About anything."

"I know, Gwen," he whispered, planting a small kiss in her hair. "Thanks."

"Do you still have nightmares?"

Merlin's mind went back to Camelot, to when he would wake up in a cold sweat with his friends' names on his lips. But Gwen was there to talk to, to help him. And then his mind jumped forward to the cabin beside the lake, where the same thing would happen, only no one was there for him. "Yes," he answered, hesitantly.

"You could talk to me about those, too, if you want."

He let out a breath of laughter, already feeling the pressure that came from remembrance release from his chest. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You'd better," she smiled. She jumped as a vibrator buzzed and sent pulses through the table. Guinevere laughed as her eyes locked onto Merlin's cell, and she rolled her eyes. "Now I just have to remember that we have technology in the twenty-first century. Noisy, disturbing technology."

Merlin grinned and reached for his phone. "You should have seen cars in the twenties. Loudest things ever." He put the phone to his ear as Gwen laughed again and reached for his bowl. "Hello?"

"Colin!"

"Arthur?"

Gwen perked up and looked at him, brow furrowed.

"How's Gwen?"

"She's fine. She's right here. What's up?"

"Come down to the station. We just made a break in the case."

"Really? That's great!"

"And bring Gwen!"

"I will, I will," Merlin laughed. He said goodbye and hung up before filling Guinevere in and ending with, "And he wants us over there."

She smiled brightly and set the bowls in the sink, saying, "I'll grab a sweater."

* * *

I hope you guys liked it. I need coffee. I am so tired, but I have things to do. Like this new one-shot I'm working on... :D I'm hoping to post it within the next few days. :)

Later, tatters.

Dream of Jack Frost tonight. ;)


	14. Turning Pages

Disclaimer: IDOM

Hello, all! Sorry, again, for the skipped update last week. I could give you a bunch of excuses, but they'll all seem petty so I won't list them. But I apologize in advance if I do have to delay/skip any more updates due to personal circumstances of either myself or my beta. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. It's got a bit of everything. ;)

Enjoy:

* * *

**Chapter 14: Turning Pages**

* * *

Guinevere rested her head on Merlin's shoulder as the lift pulled them up to the third floor. He had his long arm around her, reminding them both of all the time they spent in Camelot together after everyone else had passed. Gwen had been his first friend, and she had been his last friend. Sister, really, considering how close they were.

The lift doors opened, and they both stepped out of the lift, Gwen's neck craning as she looked around for her boyfriend, brother, and friends.

"Guinevere!"

Her head whipped to the left, her hair bouncing, and they saw Arthur jogging towards them, the others following close behind. She closed the gap, and the former king's arms wrapped around Gwen in a tight embrace. He breathed in her scent, and she his, until they broke apart, and Arthur set his hand on the side of her face.

"Are you alright?"

She smiled as tears stung the back of her eyes. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Merlin took care of me." Elyan stepped forward as Gwen stepped towards him and pulled his sister into a hug, planting light kisses in her hair and on her forehead.

"Merlin, eh?" Gwaine smiled, eyebrow quirked.

The warlock's eyes widened as Gwen turned towards him, both realizing her slip, but then, as he replayed Gwaine's voice in his head, warmth washed over him. She had used his _real_ name.

"Well, um..." Gwen fumbled. "We... all have Arthurian legend nicknames, and Mer—_Colin_ is one of us now... So I thought..."

"I like it," Gwaine decided, clapping Merlin's arm as he heaved an inward sigh of relief. "It fits. Except for the fact that you're not an old man. At least, I hope not." The warlock laughed, and Gwen bit her lip as Elyan put his arm around her shoulders. "Merlin it is then. Merlin. Merlin. Merlin. Merlin. Yep. I love it."

"Me too," Arthur agreed, and suddenly Merlin's heart soared.

The bright smile on the warlock's lips grew even bigger, and he shoved his hands anxiously into his sweater pocket. "So, um, you said something about the case?"

The Inspector nodded. "Both of them actually."

"Both?"

"The man who attacked you, we found out, was hired—"

"What?"

"Yeah, and—"

"Who would want to attack _Gwen?"_

"Colin, shut up!"

Gwaine nudged the warlock, quirking his brow at Arthur. "His name is Merlin."

The warlock smirked, biting the corner of his lip.

"Anyway, _Merlin,"_ Arthur continued, looking pointedly at his friend, "on our case, we got an anonymous tip that someone saw someone leaving the museum where Rose Lyngrid was murdered. By their description, we recognized it as a local gang that originated in Chinatown. Now, the guy that attacked Gwen confessed to being hired by someone in Chinatown that fits the description of the guy they saw leaving the museum."

"So they're connected?" Gwen asked.

Arthur shrugged. "Apparently. I don't understand why or how, but it sure seems like it."

But Merlin knew. It was Morgana. Who else? She'd tried to kill Gwen before. The only problem is was that Guinevere hadn't remembered the past anyway. So why attack her?

The warlock thought back to the curator's death. The cause of her death was strangulation, but there weren't any markings. It was magic, of course. He'd seen it before. And she had seemed to know so much about their case at dinner... _Was it only last night?_ She'd said they were looking in the wrong direction; she'd seemed so _involved. _And now this. Everything pointed to Morgana.

But why make it so easily to connect Guinevere's attack with Lyngrid's murder? The connection was obvious to Merlin, at least.

But what was her aim? What did she have to gain from breaking into museums and, more pointedly, it seemed, the weapons wing. What was she looking for that was so important? Merlin briefly thought about Excalibur, but that was at the bottom of Avalon. Only he would be able to release it from the Lake's depths. No, it wasn't Arthur sword...

"Merlin?"

The mist that covered his eyes dispersed, and he focused on Arthur. "Hm?"

"Are you alright? You went quiet there-which is new, by the way."

A grin spread on his face. "Fine. I was just... thinking."

"Now I'm scared," Arthur jested, raising his eyebrow. He turned and started to walk, Gwen falling in step with Merlin as they followed behind.

"Merlin? What's wrong?"

The warlock glanced down at her, affection spreading through him at the genuine concern in her eyes. God, it was good to have her back. "Nothing," he smiled. "I'll explain later. Erm... where're we going?"

"Interrogation room," Gwen explained. "You really did zone out, didn't you?

"It's been known to happen," he laughed.

She bumped him, whispering so the other wouldn't hear her. "Especially to you, _warlock."_ He only grinned brighter. "Arthur explained that to get a full confession, Luke, the guy from last night, has to see me and confirm that it was me he was meant to attack."

The man's expression quickly morphed into a protective frown. "And you're okay with that? Gwen, I've no intention of letting you get within ten feet of the guy."

"_Merlin,"_ she chided, smiling. "It's okay. The man's not going to attack me in the middle of Scotland Yard. And Arthur'll be there. I've faced worse."

"Not because I wanted you to."

"I know, Merlin, but I'll be fine," Gwen reassured.

Arthur turned right once more before gesturing towards a wooden door and turning towards them. "Merlin, you're coming with us. Elyan, Leon, you better follow up on your own case before my father comes down on you. Gwaine, Perce, you guys wait in the observatory. We'll go to Chinatown after this, and I want you two as backup."

"Wonderful," Gwaine murmured.

Elyan put his hands on his sister's shoulder. "You're sure you're alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Guinevere reassured. He nodded at her, smirking before saying a quick goodbye and following Leon. "He's such a big brother," she grinned, watching him walk away.

"Come on, let's get this over with," Merlin said, bumping her arm. Together, the three walked into the room, and he saw Gwen shiver as the bulky man sitting at the table locked his eyes on her. The warlock's hand brushed against hers, reassuring her, and she looked up at him, smiling gratefully.

Arthur stepped in front of the table, spreading his hands as he leaned against the fixture. "So before we close this, I need you to confirm that this was the woman you were hired and paid to attack."

The man's brown eyes flickered towards Arthur before focusing on Gwen again. "Yes, that's her."

"And who hired you?"

"I told you," he sniffed haughtily, "I was approached by a guy in Chinatown."

"Where?"

"A bar called the Purple Flower."

"By whom?"

"Lin Hui."

"Wonderful," Arthur smirked. "Thank you. We're done here. Someone will be by soon with the paperwork." He turned towards the others, nodding towards the door, and Merlin gently guided Gwen out, following behind her as Arthur came out behind him.

"Okay, Gwen?"

"_Yes,"_ she laughed. "I'm alright."

Arthur quirked his brow. "Well, it's not everyday you're attacked by a stranger."

She bumped his arm just as Gwaine and Percival came out of the observation room. Gwaine smirked. "Well, that was straightforward."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Ready to go?"

"I suppose. Can we stop off for lunch on the way?"

"No, Gwaine. Afterwards. My goodness." He turned towards Gwen, setting his hands on her arms and looking into her eyes. "Guinevere, I want you to go home and rest, alright? I already told my father what happened and got you the day off."

Merlin could see the indecision in her face, but she finally sighed and consented. "Okay."

"Will you be alright alone, or do you want a ride?"

She smiled. "It's the middle of the day; I'll be fine. Besides," she added, throwing a teasing look at Gwaine, "I can stop off at Subway and get something to eat."

"Darn it!" Gwaine whined, turning away and gesturing wildly. "That sounds so _good. _Gwen, I hate you."

"Ha! That'll be the day," she laughed.

Arthur plated a small kiss on her forehead before stepping back and turning towards Merlin. "I'll be right back. I need to get my gun out of my desk."

"Same!" Gwaine added, jogging off after Arthur as Percival followed at his heels

The warlock set a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'll check on you later, Gwen, alright?"

She glanced down the hall to see the others out of earshot. "Then we'll talk?"

"Yeah," he smirked. "Then we'll talk."

* * *

Cars honked and squeezed past each other, and Percival turned on his blinker seconds before turning right down Wardour Street. The traffic was lighter, and Merlin looked out the window, excitement and anxiety both coursing through him. Signs hung from buildings, some in English, some in Chinese, and some with both languages running side by side.

"Are we there yet?" Gwaine mumbled.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder from the front passenger side seat. "No. Roll your window up: the air conditioner's on."

Groaning, the sergeant pressed the button beside him and watched as his window slowly climbed. "Well, are we _almost_ there?"

Merlin snickered and leaned against his own window. "Nearly."

"How would you know?" Arthur questioned, amusement flickering in his eyes.

"Well, the gentle giant pulled off the main road, so I assume we're almost there."

Percival laughed out loud. "The gentle giant, hm? Well, I might have to teach you a lesson or two then, _Merlin." _The warlock's grin broadened as he chortled, and Perce parallel parked next to a shady tree. "We're here."

_"Finally!"_ Gwaine sighed. "Maybe I can get some _food _here."

"Really?" The Inspector eyed him with disbelief. "That's why you wanted to get here?"

"Yes," he answered with a cheeky smile.

"No one can accuse him of acting like an adult," Merlin quipped.

Percival pointed towards the warlock, smirking. "I like him."

Rolling his eyes before schooling his features, Arthur shook his head. "Come on, let's get this over with." He reached into his jacket and pulled his sidearm from his shoulder holster, flipping it over in his hand and checking that it was loaded.

Merlin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he furrowed his brow. "Is that really necessary?"

Arthur glanced at him, putting the gun back in its holster. "Better safe than sorry."

"Besides," Gwaine smirked. "You're a physician. You're probably used to blood and stuff and things."

A frown pulled on Merlin's lips. "Used to it, yes. Is it a good thing to see? No. I know what guns do to people, and it isn't pretty or fun."

Arthur looked at him, something like sympathy making his eyes soften. "Alright, I promise I won't fire it, okay? Just intimidate them a bit."

The warlock sighed audibly, humorously, and felt warmth spread through him. "Fine."

The Inspector opened his door, swinging his legs around. "Besides, I wouldn't want to waste a perfectly good bullet."

Merlin huffed a laugh as he hopped out of the SUV and onto the sidewalk. Gwaine climbed out beside him, and both their doors slammed shut at the same time. Arthur and Perce came round from the other side of the vehicle.

"Sure this is the place?" Gwaine voiced.

Arthur narrowed his eyes against the sunlight. "Well, Gwaine, you tell me: there's a neon purple flower sign in the window, and a sign that has, not only purple flowers on it, but a name."

"Snarky, aren't we?"

The Inspector groaned, but they could all see the humor pulling at his lips as he led the way into the tavern. As soon as Merlin stepped through the threshold of the door, the atmosphere changed abruptly: the sunlight was gone, replaced by shining black lights and neon colored spotlights that flickered around at random, never settling, and the fresh air was replaced by stale cigarette smoke, age old booze and liquor and a cheap air freshener that only made the scents increase tenfold. To Merlin's left was a well-stocked bar, complete with a tattooed bartender waiting on people already drunk. To his right were countless round tables and booths where couples and groups sat, drinking and eating, and further back was a dancefloor. Dozens of people crowded together in that area, grinding and brushing against each other as they danced in tune with the loud, techno beat.

"I thought this was a bar," he said, loudly.

Arthur glanced at him. "Bar, nightclub, same difference." His eyes roved around, and the warlock watched them widen, then narrow, at someone in one of the booths at the other end of the club. "There he is."

Merlin followed at his friend's heels as he maneuvered his way through the crowd. "Who is _he,_ exactly?"

"Lin Hui," Arthur said. "Local menace who likes to make it difficult for people less fortunate than himself. You know, collect on debts with outrageous interest."

"He's a bookie?"

"That's one name for it, yes. We have him on several accounts of assault, but we have no solid proof. He always gets out of it somehow. What confuses me, though, is the museum robberies. That's a new one for him. I mean, we've got a jewelry store robbery that was loosely linked to him, but nothing like this."

"Well, I guess you could ask him," Merlin smirked.

The blond shook his head in disbelief and amusement, and as they neared the half-circled booth, he schooled his expression into one of complete seriousness. Merlin thought it all looked very much like an older mobster movie, and pushing his magic down, he fought a rising unease when the two bodyguards on either side of the booth eyed them all with hard eyes and thin lipped frowns.

"Mr. Hui," Arthur began, "we'd like a word with you."

The man in the center leaned forward, making the two women on either side of him shift, and he cupped his martini glass between his forefinger and his middle finger, rings glinting in the strobe lights. He looked to be about middle-aged, with thinning black hair and a long face. "Ah, and who might you be, exactly?"

"Detective Inspector Bradley James, sir."

Hui didn't look at all concerned with Arthur's rank, and he took a sip of his drink. "Respectful," he quipped, "I like that. So, Mr. Detective Inspector Bradley James, what can I do for you?"

"We'd like to ask you a few questions about some recent happenings-"

"Sorry, I don't do questions. That's not how it works."

"That's how it works if you don't want your arse _dragged_ all the way to Scotland Yard, _sir_. But," Arthur raised his voice, angling his head towards the dancing crowd, "I guess we could always discuss the _murder-" _

"Hey!" Hui objected. "What're you trying to do? Put me out of business?"

Arthur looked him straight in the eye, challenging him, and folded his hands in front of him. "No, I would just like to take you down to Scotland Yard for some questions. _Willingly." _

And the oddest thing happened-Hui smiled, widely and genuinely. "You seem a man of honor, Mr. James. Honor is the very root of my culture, as I'm sure you know. So, to test that honor, I will give you a little challenge."

If Merlin didn't know Arthur better than he knew himself, he would have missed the way his friend's jaw tightened. "What challenge?"

Hui spread his arms. "Defeat my bodyguards, and I will go with you willingly. Failure to do so, and you will have to get a warrant for my arrest."

"And what about your business? Wouldn't that disrupt things a bit?" Arthur asked.

"Eh, if you win, the people will get a bit of entertainment, which means more drinks and more partying. If you lose and come back to arrest me, the people will only come back to find out what happened, and then buy more drinks. Really, it's a win-win for me. And," he added, "since my men are rather, well, _large_, I will allow you to use the three men that you brought with you. That should make it an even fight."

Arthur's head turned and glanced at Gwaine and Percival, and when both nodded, he turned towards the warlock. Merlin could see the hesitation in his eyes, the subtle tresses of hard protectiveness that colored in his irises and the unwillingness to let Merlin fight beside him, for his own safety. But the warlock responded with a small nod and a thin, reassuring smile. After fifteen hundred years of waiting, it would be good to fight beside Arthur again. Wholly and truly.

The detective turned back to Hui, the old air a Camelotian knight covering him like a thick blanket. "I accept your challenge."

* * *

A bit of BAMF-ness there at the end. I like that. ;D

I thought I would let you guys know, too, that I'm going to be participating in NaNoWriMo this year, both on my own and with my Creative Writing class (whose aim is 25,000 words). My goal, however, is still the 50,000. It's an original story that I've got plotted out... which ended up sounding, to me, like a medieval Lion King/Merlin deal. :D I'm excited for it. It shouldn't affect my RM updates, though. :D If you want to look me up I'm carinims01 both on the sites for it. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.

Anyway, I can't think of anything else to say, so, goodnight, all.

Dream of Jack Frost tonight. :)


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